False Impressions
by Gargee
Summary: Love. Sex. Crime. Intrigue. Complications and a Lot of Heart! It is a typical G and B story loves, because, we are Baaaack!
1. PROLOGUE: Spirit of De Grisogono

**Prologue: Spirit of de Grisogono **

**(****Spirit of de Grisogono :****World's largest black diamond, Originally from Africa, mine-cut from India. Multi-faceted, old Nizam style.)**

**April 12th, 2012. Hotel Taj, Mumbai.**

The Dress was simply magnificent. There were no other words for shaded japanese silk with a sweetheart neckline and a paler _rossette_ on the decolletage adorned with white swarovski were copper rings holding up the wispy sleeves and a matching little purse with the _rossette_ and swarovski crystals pattern repeated on it. The crystal beadings on the bag complementing those on the hems of the dress itself. They dress was draped on an ebony seater, artfully. The actress Madhubala had worn it for her _Harper Bazaar's_ shoot. Her own pseudo Hollywood debut. Bollywood's Marilyn Monroe. Tragic. Beautiful. Eternal. She wanted it. And she would do _anything_ to get it. Her eyes were trained to the front line of seats- her real competition would be from there. She fingered the locket around her neck, her fingers slipping and caressing along the Diamonds studded in a spiderweb pattern around the thumbnail deepest forest-green of the Columbian emerald in their midst. Her thumb stroked the Emerald- once, twice, three times- winding her copper-tipped finger around the highly polished, sleek gold chain before she closed her eyes drew in a calming breath and opened her eyes again- this time with cold confidence instilled in them. The brilliant amethyst cluster with a diamond on the middle resembling a flower, on her right hand ring finger caught light and blazed as she gestured towards the dress to her companion. Her eyes trained themselves on the dress- something that she had been obsessing over for the past three months. She didn't turn when a Man sat beside her- neither when he slung a casual hand across the back of her chair, his other hand going up to stroke his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully as he followed her gaze.

"Still not going to listen to sense, I take it?" he said, his eyes trained on the dress as well now, and she turned her head towards him. Her eyebrows going up. He chuckled, and shook his head as she turned away.

"Nope. Worth a shot, though." He shrugged and settled back, winking at the daughter of a wealthy _collector_ who was also _interested _ in what his friend had been driving him insane over, for the past three months. He smiled as the girl winked back and turned away. Well, the least Madhubala's _Harper Bazaar_ dress could do for him was spare him a great night!

He looked around the Hall that they were currently occupying. His eyes easily gliding over to the security cameras placed in strategic points, his face tilting as he figured out each of their blind spots, his eyes twinkling as he found them. His fingers played a drum beat on the side of her chair and she looked back at him- slightly annoyed this time. "You could get it without all this melodrama, you know? Clean work. Let Colonel 'Dungrees' over there buy it, is what I think..." he trailed off indicating the Man with a slight tilt of his head before turning back to her and resisting from cringing at the look she was giving him.

"Fine." he said, folding his arms across his chest as he crossed a leg over the other and leaned back. "Do it your way. Be honest with your passion and all that bullshit." he said, tapping his foot on the floor as he muttered about only wanting to help out a friend, when she shook her head at him and turned again.

"Shut up NK. And Besides, if we do that, Daughter 'Dungrees' won't sleep with you would she?" she chuckled as he sighed and his alert pose relaxed. She had a point. She nudged him and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know the stupid auction's started!" he stage whispered, causing people around them to turn to him and he smiled at them, shrugging his shoulders easily as he leaned back again. "Wish I could have a drink though." he told her and she managed not to groan out loud. But her attention was back on the dress. She had to get it. And NK was there- even with all his mutterings and sulkings, he never _did_ miss any of these events. She was pretty sure she would get it- what with both her luck charms present with her. She discreetly fingered the locket again- and smiled. After all as the rhyme goes... when she was good, she was very very good... when she was bad - she got diamonds and pearls. Tonight, she smiled fingering a lock of her own curl - she'd settle for silk instead.

She sauntered up to near the stage, looking. Absorbing. It will be hers soon... and damn everyone else who gets in her way, her green emerald and gold streaked eyes gleamed. Hers, The dress was designed circa 1950s by the Haus of Lancome by Louis va Kien; one of his last surviving works and on this particular hourglass actress... it had been a bomb. The whole world thought it and she wanted it. So much! She flicked her hair, now only if she knew where she'd put it... Khushi smiled, pearls flashing. _Mine_.

The bidding quickly got out of hand. Beyond the Thousands and into Lacs. She still kept bidding. Surely she could afford it. She smiled again. _She sure could_. Colonel 'Dungree' seemed intent on being a pain in the ass though. she'd had it when he climbed beyond 4.

Raising her board, she indicated the auctioneer- a clean climb was what would get rid of the pesky man.

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow as she indicated her bidding amount. She rolled her eyes. _Yes, Really. I'm giving you that much for the dress. Now get on with it._ She wanted to snap, but made do with a small nod of her head.

The woman still looked unsure but went ahead anyways. "Not today my love, she is mine tonight," she whispered. "I get an offer of 5 Lac Rupees." the woman announced, her slightly nasal voice carrying throughout the suddenly quiet hall. People looked around and she smiled a secret smile. _Not willing to pay that much for this beauty, are you gentlemen? Well, Too Bad!_ she thought, as the woman announced the dress to be sold. Sold at 5 Lac Rupees to Khushi Kumari Gupta.

He eyed the Ring. His Whiskey colored eyes sweeping over the hall once, picking out potential looking buyers. All of them looked from the core of the The_ Ultra Rich_ community. Not Nouveau, no. Rich. Old Money. Sipping their drinks with their bred-in-the-bone sophistication, gossiping about every person they laid their eyes on, eyeing the goods with a greedy glint in their eyes- as if deciding on the story they were going to tell their peers about how they _acquired_ it. And for How much. He wanted to snort in derision. Ah Family. Ah Home. Yeah, that was not gonna happen with The _Ring_- that was for sure. It was going to be returned to where it belonged- back to the family it belonged to. His family. _His. _Smiling wryly, he thought, nobody ever said he wasn't a possessive man. It was a fact he accepted about himself. Liked too. He stood at the very back of the room, his hands buried inside his pockets, back ramrod straight- not paying a whit that almost half the women population in the Hall was eyeing him with the exact same amount of interest that the men in the room were eyeing the Ring with. He tensed as the auction started. And just as before, went out of hand very rapidly. People standing up in their places to shout out outrageous amounts for the Ring. He shrugged, well he had the money- way too much of it. he could use it for some good couldn't he? It was the money of his worthless ancestors anyways , he thought- _fools_- letting such a valuable heirloom go to a mere actress.

He frowned as he searched for the elusive bidder that was still bidding. Why would they pay so much for something like a mere _Ring_? Of course, it was in no way a _mere_ Ring. An antique Nizam era Poison Box Ring with hollowed interior. Very cloak and dagger. Well suited for the intrigue filled Nizam's courts. It was made up of burnished antique gold with fused emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, tourmaline and rubies with diamonds instilled around the edges. Enamelled inlays of tiny Mughal dancers. A work of art. A deadly one too. It was a ring some ancestress had used to allegedly poison her faithless, and if he admitted it, worthless husband. Powdered Datura extract. There were no proofs of course. She had worn the ring until the day she had died, never parting from it for a second. When that unhappy day had come, it had gone back to the family vault. Arnav Singh Raizada wanted that ring because another of his foolish ancestors who had given the ring away to woo the beautiful actress who probably didn't care for it - much. The idiot had never looked to find out if his mother was really guilty or not. She wasn't punished or caught... but still... He hadn't even known about the hollowed chamber, reason tells neither did the late actress but, Arnav was... _curious_. The ring still held the answer. Traces of Datura poison that would never go away. He would find it. Therefore the bloodsuckers here weren't having it. No way in hell. _His_.

He frowned when the bid started climbing again. The bidder was practiced- that was for sure. Climbing in unpredictable leaps and spurts- so that he had a difficult time placing his bid. Well, Arnav Singh Raizada got what he wanted. This time would be no different. He raised his hand, continuing with his amount and sighed when the other bidder upped theirs. This was getting irritating. He raised his voice, he would put a stop to this- once and for all. "25 Lac Rupees." He said- and smirked at the silence that followed.

The woman at the podium looked around, her eyes hovering questioningly at the fifth row of seats- was that where the other bidder was?- and then sighing, she raised her voice- "25 Lac Rupees. Once. Twice. Thrice. Sold."

Arnav smiled. Sold to Arnav Singh Raizada- Back in the right Family.

He strode forward, time to collect the prize, he thought smirking- but stopped just as he neared the fifth row. They _had_ been a worthy opponent, even though whoever they were hadn't got it. It took guts to bid 23 Lac for an antique ring- and it also took Good Taste and a lot of knowledge. He had to meet this person. He scrutinized the people there, some standing, some idly sipping their drinks, not one of them seemed to be the kind who would _have_ that kind of taste, though. And just as he had thought that he heard her.

"It's supposed to be a Poison Box Ring. The woman who owned it before Madhubala_ji_ poisoned her own Husband so she could elope with her young lover."

His eyebrows rose, as he turned, his interest piqued. It was a _woman_. And she knew about the interesting history of His Ring. Nobody had known. Not even the celebrated Madhubala_ji_ herself! Of course, the woman in question hadn't eloped with her younger lover. Just stopped her worthless husband from squandering the family fortune on gaming and prostitutes but hey, he'd give his great-grandmother that thrill. She can have her young lover to the people but... And then he stopped.

The owner of that voice and that knowledge was standing a mere few feet in front of him- Ivory skin complemented beautifully by the curve-kissing floor length brilliant Flame Orange Bottega Veneta Gown that darkened to an almost burnished Red around the edges. It had a beaded bodice with a cowl-neck decolletage and beading at the edge of the filmy, almost insubstantial skirts. Her slender yet beautifully feminine frame shown off elegantly by the dress she wore. Copper pumps on her feet twinkled beguilingly. Sipping a glass of Dom Perignon, her full lips looked almost inviting as she told her companion more about the History of the _Ring_. "set with enamels, on gold filigrees are emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, tourmaline, rubies and brilliant almost white blue diamonds - all mined in India during the Mughal Era..." But what had drawn his attention was the Emerald choker she wore around her neck. A brilliant Green thumbnail sized rock in the middle, it was surrounded by a number of diamonds in a weblike pattern, hanging on a thick looking golden chain, the locket nestling quite magnificently in the hollow of her throat. "There are tiny, perfect mughal dancers enamelled on the top, dancing..." He raised his eyes and they clashed into those almost equally brilliant pair of Emerald Green eyes. Flecked with gold, dancing with impatience. The eyes just... he stared. The eyes... Framed by thick eyelashes. They were shuttered. Mysterious. Intelligent. He felt captivated. A willing slave. He had to meet her. He had only taken a step forward, when she turned away from him and to her companion.

"We should go." she said, her voice a husky melody, "We have a flight to catch." And before he could introduce himself- even _think_ about it, really- she was gone. _His._


	2. CHAPTER 1: Himitsu-Bako

**Chapter 1: Himitsu-Bako**

**(Himitsu-Bako: ****Japanese Puzzle Box often with a secret inside that can only be found after having solved the puzzle. Meant to foster patience. Or hide a secret not meant to be found.****)**

Song playing in the background:  watch?v=urhs98th8a0

The music was pounding, as he pushed through the writhing walls of moving bodies, sinuous curves, sheened with sweat. Glitters. Spangles. Silk. . Any other time, he probably would have been interested in the curvy, scythe-like feminine forms moving to the beats. Why not? Now though, he had something else in mind. Far more stimulating than the mindless music on the floor, that would perhaps lead to another round of equally mindless but far more pleasurable activities in bed. No. Now his _mind_ was about to get a workout; just what he had been craving for the past few days. Plus it would help shut out a pair of gold flecked emerald eyes that had been haunting him for the past three months. Witch eyes. She had been haunting him- _haunting_ him from that day when he had seen her. And it irked him. Very Much. Arnav Singh Raizada- The Man of every woman's dreams- could not get her out of his goddamned system- and he had only seen her once.

He pushed through another throng of riveting curvatures swaying to the hypnotic music until reaching the small private room at the back, shielded by a flimsy door. Without batting a lash, he pushed the door and moved into the blue light lit room where the body lay sprawled on the floor, face twisted grotesquely - as is in the case of a victim of cardiac arrest. She was naked. The room had that stale smell of sex. She wasn't raped though, from what the medical examiner could garner - it was consensual but rough. Repeatedly. Had the sex caused her heart to stop? He didn't think so.

The dead body was unnaturally pale, bloodless- purplish bruises coloring large stretches of the body. Her eyes were open- the irises were contracted, as if fear and realization had hit her just moments before she had lost her life. He bent down, his eyes scanning the floor intently- nothing. Dust lined the hardwood floor of the room- not a single drop or speck of anything else in sight. He frowned. He looked back at the woman lying dead in front of him- her lips open her limbs splayed apart, eyes dilated with what looked like fear. A thin platinum chain dangled at her left wrist- small and very expensive looking diamonds studded on it. Rich. He concluded, his eyes roving over the subject- but why dead?

He looked up and around again- his mind running through possibilities- discarding one after the other. "Cause of Death?" he snapped at the Medical Examiner Intern, and the kid almost jumped- but answered in a level voice. "Cardiac Arrest. But what caused _that_ we can only estimate after we have her in the morgue."

He raised an eyebrow at Aatish, the Senior Medical Examiner and the Man nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as he bent down and swabbed some blood of the woman's thighs. Moved carefully around the room- taking in everything. What had happened in here? Surely, Sexual Intercourse- even Rough, was not enough to send a young woman into Cardiac Arrest! This was a murder... but he really didn't have the motive. He looked up as the door was pushed open and Aman walked in.

"ID'd the vic, boss." he said, and Arnav stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This guy was never going to stop calling him Boss. He jerked his head- and Aman went ahead. "Anahita Segal. High Society Prostitute. Works here. Lives in Nizamuddin East, alone. Comes from Yamunanagar originally. Family isn't ready to own up."

Aman shook his head and looked at the dead body, an expression of pity flitting across his face before the cold mask of an investigator fell down. "Was seen last with an unidentified Bald Man, coming inside the club- not seen after that- till she died."

Arnav sighed. Well, it was going to be a long night. "Alright, let's wrap up. Aatish, take the body to the Lab- I want the reports ASAP. Aman restrict this area, will you? And tell Ranjan to bring everyone in for Interrogation." He turned around on his heel and stalked out of the room- his brow still furrowed as he thought about why someone would kill a Prostitute. Raking a hand through his hair, he glanced at his watch. 11.30 pm. Dadi was going to be really hacked off tonight. He'd promised her a Dinner together. Closing his eyes and sighing, he had just leant back against the wall, when he heard that hauntingly familiar voice again. The husky melody breaking through the haze of tiredness. His eyes snapping open he looked around.

And as he turned he saw her. Her Brilliant Emerald eyes wide, the gold flecks in them looking more pronounced. She looked even more... ethereal, in her simple grey button down shirt and denims. Her long hair was put up in a simple pony, twisted up from her neck with a claw clip. Her face devoid of make-up, glowing, as if it had its own aura. His eyes moved down her face to her neck- a thin gold chain visible just beneath her collar- her chest heaving up and down rapidly as if she had been running- or maybe because she was scared? She turned, her slender frame seeming to almost float along as she briskly walked away somewhere, her head craning up- as if searching. And he followed. He didn't know why, but he had to get to her.

He watched her disappear between two hefty looking guys and followed, his brisk walk giving in to a light jog. He heard her again and turned.

"... Come on. Up you get." She was standing near the bar, talking to someone- he leaned forward, craning his head to see if he could spot the person she was talking to. Suddenly he felt someone shove him and he stumbled, before steadying himself and walking on. He just _had _to get to her.

He walked over to the bar, and looked around. Then, swore ripely. His hands raking through his hair again. She was gone. _Again._

He had come to the _club_ to unwind. A drink, a dame and and most importantly, he had come to case the joint. The cameras. The security exits. The inner workings of club Jalapeno. The level of sophistication in terms of technology. He needed it all. Tomorrow there would be a big scale exchange of a smuggled good going down in this particular club - A foreign dignitary had smuggled it in from Nepal during the upheaval it was going through when the Royal Family was slayed. Even among all the death and blood, while he had been a guest at their house, he had stolen. Now, nearly five years later, with the heat finally dying out, he had finally become brave enough to sell it to the highest bidder. He and his partner had been hired to _intercept_ the said good for a 30 percent of the selling price along with a flat rate for a smooth heist. The money didn't appeal to him. He had enough of it. The pretty statue though... He _just _might decide to keep it for himself _if_ his partner didn't have one of her _honor among thieves_ moments. He closed his eyes and recalled the statue... What he had seen of it anyway. So pretty! Nand Kishore Raina's fingers tingled, as it often did in the presence of beautiful things. He liked to consider himself a connoisseur of all that is beautiful. She certainly was... He closed his eyes and smiled. It was a Meenakshi of Madurai statue barely 8 inches tall. So beautifully detailed though! He smiled. Cast in the lost wax method, it was made up of pure gold, with a patina of time. No core of iron for this beauty. No. This was an old old statue... dated 750 BC, at least. _His... _the beautiful statue showed Meenakshi standing dressed in detailed, draped clothes and a long garland of malas wrapped around her neck. The mala was made up of studded rubies with uncut diamonds as the center. She was wearing a headdress that falls to one side, sculpted in rose gold with uncut diamonds etched in in a paisley pattern along with Alexandrites, Sapphires and Moonstones. Her eyes were polished onyx and lips, rose tourmaline. In her hand is a gold parrot, covered with dark blue green emerald feathers mined from Nepal. Perhaps the most beautiful aspect to him was Meenakshi's long braid going down the center of her back. She is standing in _abhanga_ position in which the body weight is supported by one leg, with both feet standing on the ground with knee slightly bent and the other leg straight out. NK Raina was in love. He was always attracted towards petite, graceful ladies and she fulfilled the _requirements_ on all fronts. He took a sip of his frosty brew, silently noting the front, the back, the employees' and the emergency exits. Yes. He just might decide to keep the lady for himself. He was... he smiled, _lonely._

He sat, mentally outlining the exchange. The process to him was no less intricate than a brain surgeon outlining his surgery. The twists, the turns. The subtle snips. His hands were no less steady as he drew them up. NK took pride in what he did... outwitting the less gifted. His more... staid partner would perhaps call it _stealing_ but hey... He had never considered himself staid for a moment of his life. Why do it now? So they were planning a _heist_ - so much more interesting. One they would carry out without a hitch, he had no doubt and one, that wouldn't warrant police investigation because - really - how would the ex-aid to the ambassador of India in Nepal explain what he was doing with a quarter of a billion rupees worth of antique? Check and fucking _mate!_ I've got'cha pal. What can you do but go quietly into the night? What options do you have left? As he thought of the _golden lady_ (as he had dubbed the statue) again, he smiled. Soon.

For now, he looked at the pretty girl dancing in front of him, he'd bide his time. He was taking another sip of the drink when he saw a tall pretty girl walk by, expert eyes idly taking note of the clusters of diamonds hanging from the platinum chain at her wrist. Expensive. At odds with her midrange dress and shoes. He looked at her again, narrowing. She was high. He thought flatly. Eyes disoriented - dilated, hair messy. Not chic messiness, but the kind you get when you spend hours doing unmentionable activities. Club drugs. She was on some sort of club drugs perhaps. Es? Poppers? Y? He didn't care. She stumbled, blindly reaching for the bald man at her side, pulling him in to kiss him with a gusto he wouldn't place with a _professional_. And NK was right. He knew he was. Casing joints and casing people were similar activities. You picked up subtle clues and pieced together a whole picture. The girl in the little black dress over there? Weaving with the middle aged bald man was a well paid call girl. The same innocent looking fresh faced girl, who was sucking face with the man old enough to be her daddy. Either she had a major case of daddy-issues, or that girl was a fabulous actress, well paid enough to fake the passion she was putting on show for the world to see. Champion actress, he thought with a small smile. Prostitute. If he was wrong, he'd eat his watch, for now, he turned around, he'd like to be away from the bombed-out-of-her-skull woman. It wasn't the prostitution that bothered him, people would be surprised to know - rather, it was the drugs. They brought back memories he would like to keep a lid on.

He took a sip from his glass, head bent as he mentally outlined how and where they would make their entrances tomorrow and from where they would leave. Together. Obviously. They made a pretty damned good team. Him and His Partner. Smart, Intelligent and quick on their feet- they were the best in the lot. And he wasn't even bragging. With Her natural charm and smooth tongue and sharp mind with the agility of a cat and that highly crafty brain and his Natural ability to slink in and become a part of the crowd and Love for everything electronic matched with their easy rapport and long friendship- they made a formidable pair. He smiled. His first friend. And the truest friend anyone could ever have.

He stiffened as the drugged whore and her bald toy tumbled onto the stool next to him, averting his eyes even as the man slipped his hand up her barely there dress. He turned away when the moans started, and the man winked at him over her shoulder. There was something _very_ wrong about that situation- well, apart from the pretty obvious wrong that was already going on. He dipped his head and concentrated into his drink- trying to ignore the horrific sounds they were making beside him- trying to drown their voices out by thinking about his task. Then, the man spoke- "Come on. There." And he looked up as the woman rose up with him- more than half naked now. Her head thrown back- her eyes hooded. Her breath was uneven and she was trembling. His eyes narrowed- she was wringing her hands, her legs twining with each other repetitively, her hands going up and down herself, gasping now- and realization struck. His eyes widened as a long lost fear settled in the pit of his stomach. They walked away- and all he could do was stare. His hands trembling, heart beats increasing as powerful and painful memories pounded in his head. He had to get out of there. _Now_.

His hands shook as he pulled his cell out. Pressing 1 and putting it to his ear, his other hand going to rub his face. Eyes closing as relief coursed through him when she picked up at the first ring.

"NK? Weren't you supposed to..."

"Khushi." he rasped out. And he listened as she paused for half a second and then the rapid fire panicked questions started.

"NK? What happened? Where...?"

He gulped the lump in his throat down and closed his eyes. "Jalapeno."

"I'm coming." she said and hung up. She had always understood him. That was the best thing between them. They understood each other- no words needed. Like Twins.


	3. CHAPTER 2: Amenta

**Amenta:**This symbol represents the Underworld or Land of the Dead. Originally it meant the horizon of the sun set. Later, it became the symbol of the west bank of the Nile, where the sun set and also where the Egyptians traditionally buried their dead. Also a metaphor for _secrets_.

Arnav unbuttoned his cuffs and precisely rolled his sleeves up, folding them as sharply as edges of origamis can ever hope to be, as he walked towards the morgue. He had already dispensed with the tie (rolled up in the pocket of his jacket) and the Jacket itself hung precariously in his office - somewhere. Arnav wasn't sure at the moment. He couldn't really care less, either. Formals were never a very good Encounter ensemble, anyway. But it was what the Department expected a detective in his position to wear, and he was alright with it. However, he preferred his Levi's and a simple plaid shirt to the whole Fussy Suit affair when he was interrogating a suspect. He reached his destination and wrinkled his nose momentarily before straightening his features and stepping in. Blank. The Raizada gift.

The morgue was a completely white Hall. Not the classy french white that his Grandmother's parlour was every few months, but a greyish, soul sucking white that made you think of bleached bones and death. The hall itself was stinking of Formaldehyde with Long stretchers with Pale ghostly looking bodies of people lying still on them. Waiting for their turns to be cut open. To be studied. Autopsies. Arnav had nothing but respect for the process that helped net oodles of criminals but for for the process itself, he shuddered inwardly, Ah science! The walls were lined with grey-white stone work benches on which stood racks upon racks containing bottles of chemicals, in front of which at least a dozen interns and ME's alike worked. The Bureau could only afford one Lab and thus the Morgue had been turned into a Lab-Morgue Mash-up with half the people calling it a Morgue and the others (mostly people who actually worked _in_ there) calling it the Lab.

He stopped just inside the door and looked around. He wanted to wrap this case up quickly, it was already getting on his nerves and it had only been Eleven hours since it had been assigned to him. Of course, his irritation with the case was less related to the _case_ and more concerned with him missing the Mysterious Emerald eyed Lady, barely. By a hairs' breadth..._ again_. Shaking his head in frustration, he narrowed his eyes. No time to think of Emerald-eyed beauties who had a convenient talent of disappearing into thin air right now- He just _had_ to wrap this one up... and fast. Maybe then they could play coyote and roadrunner again. Arnav smiled at the image inwardly even as he strode towards his _target_. They needed to talk.

He spotted her working at the bench that was at the far end of the room, the body of his vic lying beside her, pale in her death, as she tapped something impatiently into her Laptop. Impassive to the dead woman beside her. Arnav admired her for it. He walked over to her trying to dodge every stretcher that came in his way. Trying not to stumble. Reminding himself that if he did, he would most likely end up sprawled on a dead body that had already been cut open and sewn shut for the day. Not a pleasant experience for anybody. "Hey Payal. What's the 411 on the vic?" he called out as he dodged yet another Stretcher and stepped behind her, peering over her shoulder at the Laptop. She turned around and stepped aside, shrugging out of her lab coat very coolly, and looking up at him.

"Not Good." she said, her lips set in a thin line. Payal Mathur just _looked _like a typical Middle Class Delhite Girl- Ivory-gold, petite and beautiful; that was just the outside though. But Payal Mathur herself was a different kettle of fish, altogether. She always wore a simple and no nonsense attire- A pair of practical trousers in dark colors and a button down shirt. Her hair- which _seemed _to him as Long, shiny and dark (he said _seemed_ because he never made an assumption and Arnav had never seen her wear it down. It could just easily be products making it shiny, he reasoned)- was always tied up in a severe bun, although that bun kind of suited her. He wouldn't say that he wasn't curious to see what she looked like with her hair down but Arnav was man enough to admit that she was scary. The beautiful girl, younger than him scared him with her impassive, and often emotionless eyes- Of course, the emotionless eyes could easily be a product of the green rimmed specs she wore - often shielding her hazel eyes from the wall. Did she really _feel_ anything though? Arnav often wondered. If not... he smiled, what better coroner than a sociopath? Plus, he reasoned, she was just too - smart to go for him. Any woman he recognizes what it's inside him well, that's friend material right _there_. Arnav didn't date friends. He dated beautiful empty headed fluffs who take it philosophically once the relationship was over. Not beautiful, interesting, intelligent and a level headed woman who knew hundreds of ways of dissecting dead bodies. Or worse, rendering alive and kicking people _dead_. No. Thank you really but he would pass. Payal Mathur was... good and safe from Arnav Singh Raizada.

His brows furrowed as he glanced down at the vic's body- spread eagled (At least as much as it could be spread) on the narrow stretcher. Payal scooped two rubber white gloves and pulled them on, before motioning him with one plastic clad finger to follow her. He moved behind her as she spread the woman's legs even more and he sucked a sharp breath in. His job was such that he had to see things that he would much rather not- and this particular scene, he wished he never had to see again. But Payal Mathur bent forward and indicated a particular spot on the vic's anatomy that Arnav wished he would never had had to see in his whole life. The scalpel like thing that Payal held in her hands gently separated the skin and Arnav narrowed his eyes, his eyes finally finding the spot which Payal wanted him to see. A grotesque purplish bruise had formed around the spot. Payal pointed it out. "See that?" she asked, and Arnav frowned. Yes, he did. He bent forward too now, all embarrassment and repulsion forgotten, the wheels in his mind churning at full speed. He could make out the small purple blots on the skin right above her parting, which were making up the bruise now. He nodded, mutely. And, then his eyes widened. Oh Fucking hell...

"She's been..." he started, his voice incredulous.

"Injected with it, yes." Payal finished for him. Her face grim, as her eyes glinted behind her glasses. "Through her Urethra."

Khushi glanced down at the peaceful sleeping form of her friend and sighed. She'd thought he was long over this. But clearly, he wasn't... not yet. Khushi could still feel the tight knot of Panic that had settled in her stomach when she had heard his quivering voice on the phone last night. And she had known... only one thing in the whole wide world could make her NK sound that frightened. His Past. The one thing that he had tried hard to bury all these years... the one thing that he tried to forget... the one thing that _still _haunted him.

Khushi had brought him home in her car, perimeter scaling forgotten. There were bigger priorities. He was hers. NK had been deathly silent throughout the drive to his apartment and when they had gotten there, he had _seemed_ composed but when they were going towards the elevator, he had clutched at her hands like a small child would clutch his mother's in a strange, fearful environment. Like a drowning man clinging to his last chance of living. They had gone up in silence to his airy, beautiful apartment which, usually gave Khushi a world of joy to be in. She had decorated it. He had given her free reign - carte blanche. Khushi had used it. Great use of the Singhaniya money and look at it, she thought warmly. It was a showplace - fit for NK's usually flamboyant personality. Not today. Not this cowed, shadow of a man she was usually acquainted with. Usually she stood in his balcony, watching the street lights when she came over in the evenings. Not today, either. She looked at him, staring around blankly, blinking. Like he couldn't recognize where he was. NK reached out towards her, a child again. Scared. She took him by the hand to his bedroom and made him lie down. She had poured cold water with two Halcions down his throat. The sleeping pills quickly did their job and when he had cuddled up to her, his arms going around her waist as he laid his head in her lap, the moisture in his eyes wetting her shirt, she had gently ran her fingers through his hair, patting him to sleep- as one would her own child.

Then he slept. The sleep of the dead. Khushi generally didn't like it. The thought of it made her feel too vulnerable. Too exposed. Too raw. Portrayed for the world to see. But tonight she was grateful for it. He needed it. Tomorrow when he woke up, they would pretend it had never happened and then... they would do what they did best. She smiled, a quicksilver flash. They would go about netting NK his _golden lady_. He might have thought that she hadn't noticed - she had. If her pal wanted it, he got it. They didn't need the money anyway. She gently tried to pry his hands away from herself, shifting slightly to the side as she tried to make him comfortable on the bed. But sighed when his hold around her tightened- as he buried his face deeper into her stomach, mumbling something incoherently, a few of his leftover tears still sticking to his eyelashes, falling on his cheeks as his eyelashes fluttered. She ran her hand through his hair again, smiling down at him tenderly as the frown on his forehead smoothened at her very first touch. Poor Baby. She would have to stay with him tonight. There was no other option. And she sure as hell wasn't leaving him alone in this vulnerable state.

She reached behind her and extracted her phone from under her. Buaji would have to sleep alone tonight. "Ji, helloo Buaji?" she rolled her eyes, smiling. "Yes, the owners want me to stay behind again. Apparently there had been a gaggle of burglaries recently and they don't feel comfortable about leaving the house empty - but for their little old widowed _amma_," she smiled. Got'cha there, didn't I, you old softie? "Yes buaji, I'll be safe. Yes... Yes. Of course I will eat! When have you seen me not eat?" She smiled again. Poor Buaji. If she only knew! "Yes yes... I'll make sure that the poor old widowed _amma_ has something to eat as well. They do have servants you know Buaji?" she winced as her aunt rallied on about human touch, love and responsibilities. Enough. She cut her off midstream, "Don't you worry about anything at all. Love you," she hung up, all the while running her fingers through NK's hair, as one would for a child terrified, in throes of a nightmare. To soothe. To reassure. Had Khushi known what she had been doing, she would have stiffened and withdrawn her fingers immediately. Emotions. Sentimentality. She steered clear of them. A person in her line of _work_ really had no use for them. In fact, they often got you killed. She always tried to remember that. So, as an unconscious activity, she kept at it. He slept better. She welcomed the sunrise sitting beside him on the bed, looking out of the window.

When he woke up, eyes blinking, yawning, she was sleeping with her head resting on the headboard, sitting up in an awkward position as she kept her hand running over his head, soothing his frazzled nerves. NK smiled. Thank God for Khushi. Thank God for Twins. he thought, as he silently sat up, catching her hand and pressing a silent kiss to her palm. He would have to do something for her- Show her his gratitude, Thank her in their own

way, without words. No, words would insult the relationship they had. He smiled. Breakfast.

Her favorite meal of the day. Although Khushi loved almost all meals equally. He chuckled as he looked at her. She was an old softie. Whatever she showed- however tough of an exterior she portrayed- _he _knew. He had seen his twin run in between trucks to save a small puppy, leave a 500 Rupee note in a poor old lady's hand. He had seen her sacrifice her own life so that she could make sure her Buaji lived in peace. In Comfort. He smiled again, running his hand over her forehead. Breakfast it was.

He whistled the tune of 'Billo Rani' loudly humming and singing once in a while, as he banged the pots and pans around in the kitchen. NK loved the kitchen. He always had. People wouldn't usually associate something like cooking with his Devil-May-Care attitude, his strong build and his clumsy looking hands. Cooking was something that would be associated with Men who were either soft hearted and very _very_ ideal... or Gay. And NK was neither. He shrugged absentmindedly, shouting a few words of the song here and there as he flipped the _Aloo Parantha _over in the pan. Thank God for Khushi he thought. Never had he seen anyone eat with as much love and gusto as Khushi did. She sure knew how to appreciate the cook in him. He grinned. If he got the _Golden lady _tonight, he would treat her to an extra special Dinner- they always did that. Rituals. When they pulled off a heist together, they celebrated with one of his hand-cooked meals, along with a _filmy_ song and a wild dance together. This was their way of enjoying life.

"Good Morning, Billo Rani!" he sang, as he flipped the _Parantha _ on a plate and slapped another onto the pan, applying liberal amounts of _ghee_ to it, with a spoon. He heard her grunt in irritation behind him and grinned. Khushi was never a Morning Person, and NK absolutely _loved_ riling her up in the mornings.

She woke up, rubbing like the sands of time were all in her eyes. They were bloodshot, her hair, not what one would term as the _fashionable bedhead_ and NK loved it when she flung a particularly earthy swear word at him, rubbing her temple. He grinned. Yes. Things were back to normal. "Oye! Billu! Up and at'em _chotu_! Up up up! The parathas are getting cold!" She threw him an evil look. One, that would have rendered him lifeless had she been the least bit mythical. "Stuff your parathas up where the sun don't shine you idiotic son of a bitch. Let me sleep!" she ended the last word with a drawn out wail. Eyes watering with a lack of sleep. He smiled, _tsk_ing and clicking his tongue. "Such salty language for such a young lady, so early in the morning!" she didn't look at him - stalking, nose in the air with injured pride towards the washroom while he laughed. Things were definitely back to normal.

He looked up at her as she stomped in and plopped down in the seat opposite him, staring down at the table, frowning. She had worn another one of those nipped at the waist plaid shirts she preferred - purple this time with a pair of grey-blue jeggings. Khushi had left her entire wardrobe in his apartment and he, for one was glad for it. Whatever made his pal happy, really. He could see her trying to keep her face straight, but smiling anyways. He grinned, gulped his Parantha down and pushed her plate piled high with 3 Paranthas and some _dahi_ towards her. And she looked up, smiling at him- something only_ he_ and their Buaji was privy to. And then she tucked in. Almost _inhaling_ the food, as she exclaimed and moaned over just how _good_ it was. Khushi was always good for his Ego.

He smiled as he leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. His eyes wandering away from her and gazing thoughtfully out the window. "So, Obviously there's got to be a change of Plans, Eh?" he mused and felt her straighten up. Well fed and alert was how Khushi liked to dive into work- and right now, she was both. He looked back at her as she nodded her head, wiping her mouth on the Napkin and looking straight at him. "Well, we've got Plan B..." he said, shrugging but trailed off as her eyes blazed. So, clearly she was not letting him go alone into the Man's Mansion and pinch the _Golden Lady_. He sighed. She _did_ make sense, but he _wanted_ the woman. And now, he was desperate. She leaned forward and he saw those wide Green orbs twinkle. Yes, Billu had a Plan. He grinned as a slow smile spread across her face.

"NK... you know their _phone_ _numbers_ don't you?"

And a sharp, short laugh burst out of his chest. Oh, they were going to be having _fun_!

He looked around, unsmiling. He was the restless sort and checking alibis was, if he was honest with himself - something he found below himself. Why couldn't _Aman _or _Ranjan_ do it? I'll tell you why, he thought grimly... there were far too many suspects and they were already off checking alibis, leaving him one lackey short. _Pity_. He checked his watch again, a vintage rose-gold rolex, looking out of place on a detective's wrist but Arnav was a man with a love for fine things. He didn't see why he shouldn't have them - he might be a man who was a public servant but he was nobody's martyr. He checked again, impatiently. He rolled up his sleeves of the grey Marc Jacobs shirt and rolled his eyes. Sliding on his aviators waiter who was supposed to corroborate the man's alibi was late and he had asked him to meet at the place of his work - the _Parikrama _Restaurant in the Kasturba Gandhi Marg at the Connaught Place. It was a revolving restaurant, and he sighed. Stepping in. Might as well catch up on his lunch while he was at it. Two birds with one stone, he smiled. Plus, the waiter's story could be cross-checked as well. The suspect had named the _Parikrama _as the place he was in at the time of the victim's death and, he smiled, had named the waiter as his witness. Alibis could be quite easily bought, Arnav knew. He hardly ever believed them himself until he had concrete proof. This was too _neat_ for his liking. Therefore, he smelled a rat. Arnav smiled. Lunch and subtle grilling at the same time. Who knew he was _this_ good? He sat down slowly on the table near the end of the dining room and raised a finger languidly. They would come for his order. Why shouldn't they? A harried man rushed towards him and he placed his order for Buttered Garlic Naan, Tangri Kebab Noorani, Raita and a Thandai and watched the man run away. He was on the clock, sure but Arnav smiled - he was probably the only detective without an expense account. The state could probably spare him his time to eat and eat well. He hooked his ankles together and waited patiently. Noting that his alibi corroborating waiter had just come in. He signalled at him to come sit down. When he did, they started talking. He was talking a mile a minute, Arnav noted with a smile. Never a good thing for the suspect when the alibi folds under pressure like a cheap folding chair. He smiled, placing one hand on his cheek, leaning in and looked at the witness, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He never played bad cop until he really really had to. It never made sense to him. You get more flies with honey and intelligence than vinegar and brute force anyway. "Yes. Now can you repeat it all over again?". He noted the young man was visibly sweating and smile inwardly. _Gotcha!_

Khushi entered the Restaurant her eyes swiftly checking out the exits and the corners. The best thing about some of these restaurants was that they were _always_ busy, always in need of more workers and had no cameras at _all_. Tying her _dupatta_ on her waist, she quickly made her way into the kitchens, donning on an Apron and smiling at the passing waitress, as she shouted "Sprite and Masala Dosa on Table 7!"at her. She nodded, Picked up a plate already piled with a Masala Dosa and some Sambar and _chutney_, added a Sprite bottle to the tray and walked off. She smiled at the balding old man sitting on Table 7 (she had checked the waiter table chart before she entered the kitchens) and served the Masala Dosa and the Cold Drink, as she surreptitiously glanced around the Restaurant. Aha! She smirked triumphantly as she spotted the Target sitting just behind the second Partition from the Entrance, and recalled table chart again. Table 19. Smiling down at the customer again, she picked the tray up and stalked back into the Kitchens. Whipping out a notepad and pencil from the front pocket of the Apron, she shouted "Veg. Grilled Sandwich for Table 20 and Faluda for Table 18!" This was gonna be a piece of cake... or maybe _ Faluda_ she grinned as a glass bowl full of it came skidding to a halt in front of her. She walked slowly, her eyes on the tray as she pretended to balance the contents of tray precariously, making her way towards the Target. He leaned forward a little and she saw his jacket hanging behind him on the back of the chair. Well well. Too cocky! she thought with a grin. She stepped beside him and one hand trailed away from the tray and against the Jacket. She wrinkled her nose, Synthetic fibre. Cheap thought as fingers dipped into the side pocket in half a second- a quick flash, dive and withdraw. Two slender fingers clinched a sleek phone- the new HTC 1V Model, she smiled- over the table or under it Mister? Ah well. The newer the model the easier it would be to slap on the device. NK had made sure of that. The phone was gone as soon as it came out. Dropped inside the pocket of her Apron. She walked towards table 20, swiftly putting out the plates and turning away. Then, she stumbled, gasping as she did so- and the nice man from Table 16 got up, his hand coming up to steady her. Two bronze hefty fingers slipping into the front pocket of her Apron and deftly removing the phone. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She walked back towards Table 18. Faluda! She kept the bowl in front of the snooty looking old lady and counted in her head. 3, 2 and 1- "I did _not_ order for a Faluda, Young Lady!" She smiled awkwardly and nodded. "Sorry Ma'am. I'm new. I probably mixed up the Table numbers." She grimaced and walked back, counting the tables awkwardly. "Ah! Table 16!" she exclaimed softly and her eyes twinkled as the man turned towards her, his fingers assembling the phone back together. She bent forward and placed the Faluda on the table as he slipped the phone back into her Apron. She looked at the Faluda and winked and he rolled his eyes.

Straightening up, she walked slowly back, her eyes scanning the crowd of tables buzzing with activity and talk as her fingers brushed against the Jacket again, the phone easily slipping back into the pocket it had originally been sitting in. She smirked as she walked back to the Kitchens to return the Apron and the Tray. Done! Piece of Faluda... something she would be having in another few minutes, she grinned. He would have transferred the Faluda to the tiffin by now. Just as she entered the Kitchens again, her hands going behind her to untie the Apron, a heavy tray full of Naan, Kebaabs, Raita and a glass of what looked like Thandai was thrust at her by a severe looking cook. "New? Take this to Table 28." He snapped and stood staring at her, leaving her no option but to curse him under her breath and turn around, heading out again.

She walked towards Table 28 hurriedly, and almost banged the plates onto the table- not noticing in her hurry, a pair of Whiskey colored eyes widening as they stared at her. Transfixed.

Arnav looked up from the conversation with the visibly shaken waiter, just as the waitress approached him. More of that later. He smiled at the shaken waiter and signalled for him to join in on eating. His eyes lazily travelled up her long lean legs snugly encased in a pair of skin fitting Dark Blue Levi's, and up her tiny looking waist which was half hidden by a large hideous looking Blue-Green Apron, almost hiding the white T-shirt she wore behind it, which was hugging her curves perfectly. He smirked, Maybe when he was off the clock, even as his eyes steadily travelled upwards and then- He froze. A Pair of Emerald-gold eyes were staring intently at his table as she arranged the plates hurriedly on it. Her skin looked even more radiant today, Her long hair held up by in a sleek shiny Ponytail on her back, her slightly turned-up nose scrunched a little as she put down the last of her tray's contents, her eyes still impatient- as if she couldn't wait to hurry away from him. And still he stared. Taking her in. She turned away and almost ran towards the kitchen, her small hands already untying the Apron behind her as she disappeared behind the Revolving doors and that's when he snapped out of his Trance like state. Not Today. No. Not this time. He _had_ to get to her _This _time. He got up, throwing a hurried glance at the waiter who stood up too. "Move _one_ _step_ from here and I'll track your ass down before you know what hit you." He growled and the man nodded, shakily. He grunted as he side stepped him and sprinted after her. This one wouldn't vanish. He was too scared. He threw a look behind him and said, "Enjoy your lunch and don't drink my thandaai!" leaving the waiter to blink in sheer confusion, after him. Arnav ran.

He skid into the Kitchen, much to the astonishment of the cooks working in there, only to see the Employee's Exit doors closing behind a flash of Blue and White. Swearing under his breath he dashed after her and out the doors. He squinted as the blazing sunlight hit him full in the face and he felt blinded for a moment. He turned to his right and saw her, glaring from one end of the street to the other. What _was_ she searching for? But just as he reached behind her, his hand moving forward to clutch at her shoulder, he heard a loud voice call out from somewhere across the street- and on instinct, he froze momentarily.

"Oye Billu Ranii!"

Apparently, it was a cue. because just as he recovered and move another step forward, she was gone. Gone, in a whirl of Black silky hair, Blue Jeans and white T-shirt. And he swore again. His Dadi would wash his mouth out with bubble bath and Shampoo together with coal tar if she'd heard him say the word- but the event warranted it. She had slipped through his fingers. _Again_. He shook his head turning and making his way back into the Restaurant.

However, this time, she had left behind a hint. A clue to the Mystery that was his Emerald Eyed Beauty. _Billu Ranii_. He smiled... Arnav went back to the restaurant, whistling, with a tune in his head that had nothing to do with work. _Billu Rani_.


	4. CHAPTER 3: Eleusinian Mysteries

**Eleusinian Mysteries**: The Greco-Roman Cult that had thrived for nearly 2000 years, until fading into the annals of time. Known to have celebrated Demeter and her complex relationship with Hades and Persephone through a series of rituals that till date remains unknown. Also an analogy of never ending roads, a maze with no way out - secrets that cannot be unravelled.

If you asked him, Arnav would have been happier at the Morgue than attending the charity fete at The Taj Palace Hotel here in Delhi, where the rich and the well known glittered in the Diwane-I-am-Banquet Hall of the Hotel, reimagined as a luxurious Nepali Palace. There were genuine antiques displayed all about. Jewel toned Nepali silk drapes - on the walls, around the room - lit from beneath by golden fairy lights and tiny mirrors at the front, setting of dazzles of lights. There were handmade silk carpets on the floor and all the guests were handed handmade pashmina wraps as gifts. The hall was lit by hundreds of intricately worked bronze braziers ; all Nepalese. There were chiming copper _Dorje _all over the room - bells. Silver, with gems worked on butter lamps burned in all corners. Antique masks played peekaboo. Turquoise and silver studded _Shankhas_ were played periodically by attendants - the herald of good. Drinks were poured from heavily worked copper _Bhumpa_, a Nepalese jug of sorts. There were little pockets of stands with glass boxes lit from within containing Nepali jewelry, prayer wheels, prayer beads - all real of course, for sale. Arnav could already see his grandmother buying some. What did she need with them at her age, he would _never_ know but hey, a good cause. A charity for a Nepali foundation; _Kids for Kids' sake_, held by the Nepalese Ambassador - it had all the creme de la creme of Delhi in the invite list and from the looks of things, none RSVP'd. Arnav was the _scion_ of the Raizada clan - a reluctant and often absentee scion, but still. His grandmother's blackmails... he shuddered. The Nazi concentration camps could use that woman, breaking away at your excuses until you remained, bowed to her superior knowledge. He straightened his jacket, smiling. He liked dressing up, there was that. Armours, he thought. Plus, if he played his cards right, he could probably investigate here as well. They had seen the dead woman's _little_ _black book_, he smiled. He could see a lot of the clients walking by. He straightened his jacket again. It was a slimfit Alexander McQueen that he had paired with a tailored charcoal Lanvin evening shirt with grosgrain trim. An Alexander McQueen slim fit suit trousers. Arnav had worn a aubergine silk Charvet tie in paisley print; it had been tied in a Windsor knot, _just as his father had taught him when he was 9_, he smiled. There with a pocket square to match. Here's to you dad. He looked at his cufflinks. He loved them. Quirky. Although you had to have very sharp eyes to notice them - he had picked them up in London, the last time he was there. Made up of white porcelain and metal with antique glass veneer, the cufflinks had printed retro glasses in them, Paul Smith again. He checked his watch again, time to get to _work_. Arnav smiled, as he noted Mrs. Rath - daughter of a former actress, wife to a very well known entrepreneur. His mother's _friend. _Arnav had known the family since he was a child. Now, he knew that Utpaul Rath, the same man who would slip him mint or caramel candies every time he visited, the jolly Mr. Rath also used the deceased's services. Often. Arnav shuddered. Things he _didn't_ want to know. Sighing, he straightened, face blanked then, the bred-into-the-bones Raizada social face came through as he went off to subtly grill the woman who had given him baths as a child. He sometimes really hated his line of work. Men got a chance to grill mysterious beauties, and he got her. Go figure. Smiling, he strode towards her, a glass of champagne in each hand.

Everybody knew when NK Raina came into the hall. All eyes were on him and his mysteriously beautiful companion. The guy had an easy charm, a beautifully, effortlessly royal gait, a coolness that stung and attracted all at once- A complete package, if you had to go by the opinion of the women in the Hall. And the Men... well, they simply envied NK Raina. He was a man who courted drama. You could make it out just by looking at his suit. Tom Ford. Favorite of James Bond. NK smiled. It was a rather dramatic double breasted charcoal and navy pinstripe with a matching straight, narrow fit trousers and a thin black belt that he had paired with an Aquamarine Stefano Ricci dress shirt left open at the chest, sans tie. Then there were his cufflinks. Roberto Cavalli - they were platinum and highly polished sapphires that flashed blue fire- Bringing the observers' eyes to his cuffs and the state-of-the-art, high-tech watch at his wrist - the only thing he hadn't probably worn as a fashion accessory.

He walked in, arm in arm with the beautiful, green-eyed lady- he had been seen with her at most of the parties he attended. There had been a rumor that they had gotten hitched and even some that they had eloped and had two children now. But it never was confirmed. No one really knew the woman's name, some said it was because NK Raina was a very possessive Husband- and some said it was because they could never really get a hold of the woman. She was very Elusive. And Very Beautiful. She always wore something beautiful... and totally unusual to the usual label touting Delhi Elites. Today was the the same - An aubergine Giambattista Valli jersey dress with sculpted bodice. It had an off shoulder neckline with ruched and twisted detailing and ruched cap sleeves. An overlay of almost invisible blck embroidery all over. A delicate silver band at her waist, acting as a color blocking belt over the knee-length pencil skirt. Pale grey stockings and crystal embellished purple pumps that looked like Louboutins. On her neck though, was her statement piece, an antique gold choker with an almost green-black Emerald pendant, with diamonds- all on a filigreed earrings were pave set drop kinds with emeralds and marquise cut diamonds on aged antique gold. On her fingers (all tipped with peon pinky) was a tourmaline lollipop cocktail ring surrounded by a cluster of purple- grey Pyrite and blue grey pearls. They stared, at her black rimmed, thick lashed gold flecked green eyes, at her peony pink lips and, at the gorgeous fascinator of aubergine and swarovski crystal peonies on a ribald, at the side of her flowing waves of sixties inspired hair. She had been carrying an oversized purple Judith Leiber envelope clutch. Crystal encrusted. The overhead lights from the braziers setting the crystals on fire as she strode towards them all. She was a _sight_ and they all wanted to know who she was. Her lips pursed, a mysterious smile and the men sighed, as she gracefully swiped a glass of bubblies from a passing waiter. Poetry in motion, they thought, that smile they gasped. What they didn't realize was that _smile_ as it was, was a polite version of _fuck you all_ and she walked on, inside - all eyes on her.

But they stopped as her companion cooly put his hand around her waist and bent down to whisper something in her ear. They sighed as his eyes darkened and his hold tightened slightly around her. What they didn't see was the smirk that lit up that ruggedly masculine face of his, the glint that came into her eyes- making the gold flecks in them, even more prominent.

NK smirked, triumphant. Yes, it was going just as they wanted it to. His appearance- his rather dramatic entrance- and that too with a exceptionally sensational looking Khushi on his arm, made for the Alibi. It also would serve to keep his Father of his back for at least another month. The old man really _was_ getting on his nerves these days. He looked around and immediately spotted their target. Full fledged tuxedo touting penguin. Khushi smiled. Piece of... _Faluda_. Shivam Rajendar Tiwari. A small town boy who had risen through the government ranks through a healthy dose of underhanded deceit and cunningness. Ah, well. Khushi shrugged. Deceit and Cunning were good when you knew what was going to happen. And NK and Khushi, well, they liked the element of surprise a little too much. Besides, Shivam Rajendar Tiwari had had it coming to him for a long time. Not really a sin, stealing from a thief was it?

"There's our Man, Billu. Why don't you take him up while I chat with Gorgeous Veera over there?" He winked at her, as his hand around her waist tightened. Veerangana Sen Dasgupta was one of those snotty high-society bitches that NK seemed to love to hate. A trophy wife to an old and almost on his deathbed Millionaire, she was known for her philandering ways. Khushi didn't quite understand NK's logic though. He _hated_ such women. Always had. And they, in turn, were attracted to him in hordes. But instead of treating them with the contempt that he actually felt for them- NK would be his cool, charming self with them. Almost always getting rewarded for it. _Revenge, Sweetheart._ He had once told her, tweaking her nose as he put her question in front of him- confused. He had smiled that rare enigmatic smile of his. The one that betrayed his Dark Past. And he had never again clarified his reply. And Khushi had tried. Well, she shrugged again. To each his own. She smirked back at him. He bent down again, kissing her cheek, seemingly- but actually telling her to meet him in front of the restrooms in 20 minutes. "20 Minutes, Billu. Good Luck." She smiled again. Piece of _Faluda_.

NK looked at Veerangana, a former model and the latest Mrs. Dasgupta. She was, he smiled - a proof that class was something you were born with, not something you could buy. She stood, replenished in enough diamonds to buy a small nation, and an Indigo Narciso Rodriguez bandage dress, that reached to mid thighs, slit to her hips on the sides. It had ruched detailing and sleeveless, and made her thin, almost emancipated form look like a hungry shark. She had worn t-sandals with heels, so blingy that it would blind a hapless passerby and the red on her lips probably wasn't the right thing for her but she had still worn it believing it to be the color of the season. NK smiled again, "Hey there _Veera_," he whispered, and watched her melt. "NK! So good to see you in this gawdawful charity thing, darlin'. I mean, why spend money for those kids in Nepal. Can't their lazy parents do it for them?" NK rolled his eyes inwardly. _Let them eat cake, Marie Antoinette?_ He smiled and she continued, clutching at his sleeve with those red tipped talons, "Well, the jewellery aren't too bad, and _everybody's_ buying them. I got some too! Will go fabulously with the Bottega I bought for this fall!" she simpered. NK smiled, fake as the hair on her head. "Yes, I will buy my... _friend_ some too. I can't find her in this crush. As soon as we do.." he winked and watched her lips _moue_ in disappointment. "Your friend's here?" NK nodded. She smiled, a little cold, but still trying to hold on. "Well, why don't _we_ catch up, while you wait for her?" She asked him, winking a small smile playing around her outrageously red lips. NK smirked, Bingo. His eyes travelled over her skinny form as he inclined his head at her as she took hold of his arm and led him to one of the Jewellery exhibits, pointing out her prospective purchases for that night. NK smirked. Well, you're not going to get what you _really_ came here for Darlin', might as well purchase the Nepali Jewellery. That's all the golden glitter you are getting today. _The golden lady_'s was coming home with him for this lifetime. Aaah _first love_, he smiled wickedly.

And then, NK spotted it. She was clutching _it._ A_ Kotur_ golden Boulet snakeskin _gauche! _ The kind every nouveau riche gold-digger must have, he thought snarkily. Tacky. Expensive. Very very very shiny. Very very golde- blindingly so.. Something told him, that's exactly what he was looking for. His _golden_ grail. NK laughed silently in his head. He really did crack himself up.

His hand silently snuck around her waist as she pointed out some or the other jewellery to him and she looked up at him, her eyes a little hooded, her smile a little more seductive. He winked down at her, and she shifted more into him. Aha! he looked around, and spotted a waiter walking towards them. Perfect. He waited till the waiter was exactly behind them and then a little tweak was all it took. The talons that had been clutching that disgusting looking snakeskin withdrew in surprise, making the purse, fall out as a result. He bent a little and scooped the Purse out of the air, just as she turned around and glared furiously at the stammering waiter. "What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing?_" She almost screeched as the hall suddenly fell silent and almost everyone turned to them. NK stared coldly at the stammering waiter who stuttered out apology after apology. Poor Kid. He'd have to get a_ large_ tip tonight, NK decided, even as two fingers slipped inside the purse and found the sleek metal they had been searching. Swipe, withdraw. There. He smiled down at Veera. "Let it be, _Veera_. No Damage done." He turned to the waiter and his eyes blazed again. "What's your name?"

"Shreyas, sir." the kid stammered, and NK nodded. Dismissing the boy with a flick of his fingers as he handed the purse back to _dear_ Veera. Stage 1- Complete.

Khushi looked at Shivam Rajendar Tiwari carefully. Yes. There it was. The bulge in his right Jacket pocket. She sighed. Rookie. Then, she walked forward, smirking as every male eye turned towards her. And yet, her attention stayed focused on the Jewellery exhibit she was heading towards. It was just a coincidence then, wasn't it, that ole' Tiwari was looking at the same jewellery too?

She reached out a long, white, peony tipped hand and caressed a particularly beautiful statement piece of six tiered cherry agate spheres of deep purplish mauve in color on a tensile antique gold chain. In between each sphere was a highly polished gold bead alternated by a tiny unpolished diamond square pendant. Wild. Beautiful. Ethnic. Very _her. _Wasn't that convenient, really? She smiled slightly, as she felt the man next to her turn towards her and sighed. "Beautiful." she murmured. A smirk appearing and disappearing from her face in a quick flash, as he sidled up to her.

"It is, isn't it? But it would look even more beautiful on you, M'Lady." he said, his voice was raspy- irritating. Nails against a board. But Khushi refrained from flinching. NK was going to get that _golden lady_ of his tonight. And this Bastard was the key to it. She would never blow their heist when she was so close to the end. She sighed, before smiling brightly up at him. NK owed her a Butter Chicken tonight and a _lot_ of movies.

She turned around, looking over her shoulder at him pointedly, and saw with satisfaction as his eyes glinted. Yes, you sick son of a bitch, just a little closer. Come on. He picked the necklace up and moved forward, his fingers lightly running along her collarbone as he wound the necklace around her neck, before resting on her nape, as he struggled to hook it on. she moved a slight step back and felt his breath hitch as his fingers stopped momentarily and then began their work again. Frantic. Her hand slipped behind her, their bodies shielding it from view, as it slipped into the pocket, gently clinching the pouch sitting there and replacing it with an identical one. The hand slipped out just as quietly and easily as it had slipped in, and entered the Purple envelope clutch held securely in her hand. Done. She smiled triumphantly and her eyes settled on the pair of twinkling dark brown ones that she had been searching for. And she winked. His eyes crinkled as he smirked at her. A quick Flash. Got'cha! And then, he strode forward. The expression on his face stony, cold. The Possessive and Jealous Lover of a Man. Perfectly in his element.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he neared them. His voice low- but dangerous. Cold. _Icy_. Khushi looked up and smiled, a dazzling smile. "Darling! Do you see this beautiful piece? Mr..." she looked at the man uncertainly, as he gulped and nodded at NK uncomfortably. "Tiwari." he said and was rewarded by an icy glare from NK Raina, while the lady smiled again. "Yes, Mr. Tiwari here thought that it would look even better on me! I love it, what do you think?" Her eyes twinkled as NK's shot up to her. She could see that he had barely refrained from rolling his eyes. But hey! A girl had to have _some_ reward for carrying out a work smoothly! She smirked, then pouted her full peony tinted lips, with a naughty wink, meant only for him. The necklace really was Pretty. And it would be hers. Soon. NK slipped an arm around her, pointedly glaring at Tiwari once before he smiled down at her. "Of Course, Sweetheart." And then, the pair left, walking towards the Counter, talking in low voices. But what the people didn't notice was that the Man slipped something metallic into the Purple purse held by the woman, even as she handed it to him and slipped the necklace off herself and handed it an attendant who took it to the man behind the counter. She smiled as her companion handed her the purse back and murmured a small, "Excuse Me." before slipping off towards the restrooms.

Then she slipped out. As easy as that - wasn't there something about being the loneliest in a crowd? She took the alternate exit from the ladies' room and walked out. Coolly. Until the exit came into view - the one that led directly to the parking lot. Khushi nodded at one of the receptionists and walked down, keeping in mind where the cctvs' blind spots where- easier said than done in a dress. Until they reached their car, conveniently, she noticed with a smirk, parked next to _Veera's_ flashy red audi. Well well... She smiled, opening their car's door, fishing out a carryall - identical to the one in Veera's. She fished out the key that NK had so courteously slipped into her pretty little Leiber clutch. The door opened, and so did the car's trunk. Just that easy - the exchange was made. Khushi had just locked Veera's car and was about to do so with theirs when her phone beeped. She checked. _NK._

_Bring up ten grand, please billu. _

She rolled her eyes as she fished out the cash from the carryall, about 20 notes of 500 Rupees into her clutch, then freshening her makeup, she walked right in - happy to note that the receptionist wasn't around. Walked back to the hall, _well I guess nobody missed me yet. _She smiled, looking at the grandfather clock. All under eight minutes. A new record? She sauntered towards NK, still debonair as ever and he held out a heavily worked bronze box lined with maroon velvet towards her. Smiling, she extended her hand forward and accepted the box, the key exchanging hands as well. He smiled and put his hand at the small of her back. She cooed over her new necklace, seemingly rapturous. Bending down again, he whispered into her ear. Hey, they had to keep up appearances!

"Come on Billu. Last Stage. And then Exit, left." She smiled and he led her towards an angrily glaring Veerangana Dasgupta. Smiling pleasantly all the way. Khushi smiled at the heavily made-up class-less looking stick-insect of a woman as NK introduced them. NK casually slipped an arm around _Veera_ again, who smiled up at him- while Khushi mentally rolled her eyes. _Stupid Woman._ NK flashed her a smirk as he said, "Veera's been a _dear_ friend of Mine, I think we met at-?" he looked down at Veera questioningly and Khushi's eyes travelled down to his hand at her waist, expertly slipping the key pinched in between his index and middle fingers, into her Snakeskin purse. She smiled as it went in and looked back at him. Done.

And then her eyes rose again, looking past Veera's shoulder and gazing right into a pair of hypnotizing Whiskey-orbs.

Arnav looked around. Bored. The fiddling was getting him to very little. But yes, he had been able to garner this much - the whore's _john_ was known to frequent Lakshminagar quite a bit Well, that's where they'd be come tomorrow. Today though, he rolled his eyes and had just taken a sip of a smooth 20 years scotch when he saw those _eyes _again. This time. They saw him too. Curiously. Measuringly. He felt an unknown heat course through him, and watch the green gold orbs widen. As if they had taken a hit and then... shuttered. Just like that. He walked towards her, pushing through the crowd that seemed to be separating him from her. Wishing he had Moses' staff, to make the ocean part, so to knew it was her. It _was_ her. He wasn't mistaken. Or crazy. He _hoped_. He had seen those eyes. And that pendant. It was too unique to belong to someone else. A lookalike. It was her. She looked away, and turned to whisper into the ears of her companion. A man. Facing the other way. He nodded, and without looking back, he whispered too.

Her eyes widened infinitesimally as their gazes locked and held. She could feel an unfamiliar heat course through her. Strange yet not unwelcome. Her eyes travelled down that face. Chiselled. Aristocratic. Beautiful. He was drinking what looked like scotch, his glass held motionless mid-air as he gazed back at her. Her heart thudded unevenly, as she felt herself flushing. Goosebumps erupted even as his eyes travelled down her form. It was as if they left a fiery path behind them. Everywhere they touched on. Her heart stuttered. No. She didn't know what was happening, but whatever it was- it made her feel weak. And weakness was _not_ something she could tolerate. And just like that she remembered. Who she was. What had made her who she was. And _where_ she was. She looked away and turned to NK. He felt like he was her only hope in an endless sea. She was floundering. What happened to her? She squeezed his arm lightly and he bent towards her. "Who's that? Male. 12 'O' clock." NK turned slightly and looked where she meant him to. His eyes shuttered, as he turned away. As cool as you please. But his arms slid under her and she could feel his tension as he bent again to whisper to her. "Raizada. Steer clear." The stiffness of his shoulders told her that he was damn serious. And that for once, she should do as he told her. And then, it was time. He squeezed her fingers lightly and both of them walked towards the Exit. The mission had been successful. Not a soul knew what had taken place right under their noses. Not even those who had been robbed did. Then why was her heart thundering? Why did she feel that almost forgotten thrill and panic that she had felt in her starting years? The fear- for it _was_ fear- like thing that settled in a tight ball in the pit of her stomach, as she thought about those Whiskey eyes staring at her. As if they _knew_ her?

She slid into the passenger seat quickly, quietly as NK revved the engine and they pulled out. Too preoccupied to even ask him what he had done of that Ten Grand that she'd handed him. Too preoccupied to notice that for the very first time, she had left something of hers behind at the crime-spot.

The faceless man slid his hands under her arm, a fact that seemed to bother Arnav more than he thought possible and they walked. Towards the exit. Arnav too walked. No! Ran. He ran towards that exit yards behind, speeding. She wouldn't get away. Not this time. _Not this time, dammit!_ What was she, a ghost of some kind? A muse? How could she disappear as she did? Leaving behind nothing substantial. Like she wasn't ever there? He ran. Not this time! He had followed the couple, running all the way down to the car parking lot and when he got there, a car had sped past. Too fast for him to get an id. Anything. Arnav panted. Standing there until he noticed something glinting in the dim lights of the parking lot. The silk flowers she had been wearing in her hair. The mauve and crystal fascinator in the shape of a bunch of peonies. The crystals were winking in the dim light. He picked it up and stared at at. Substantial proof. She existed. He smiled. She really existed! He had almost started to doubt it himself. To doubt his sanity. Then she left it behind. Arnav grinned, running his fingers over the silky flowers, feeling the fruity perfume she had worn waft up from the fabric. What a way to pull the _Cinderella_ act Billu! Putting the fascinator in the inner-pocket of his jacket, he walked in, whistling again. Joyously this time.

Shreyas' mother and sisters stared as he came home with extra ration and fast food. Coke too. A rare treat. There had been an envelope at the reception for him. It had 10000 rupees and a short note S_orry, Pal_. Shreyas remembered the man who had scolded him so severely and tears fogged his eyes. What did this mean? He had shrugged it all aside and taken it. They needed the money. If it was that gentleman - well, he smiled. There should be more like him.


	5. CHAPTER 4: The Kailasa Ellora Caves

**The Kailasa; Ellora Caves:** Designed to recall Mount Kailash, the abode of Lord Shiva – resembles a freestanding, multi-storeyed temple complex. Carved out of one single rock, and covers an area double the size of Parthenon in Athens. A metaphor for achieving a very difficult goal; finding something previously thought to not have existed e.g. _**finding Kailasa**__**.**_

He had seen _Billu Rani_ then. At the Royal Taj in Delhi. He wasn't , to be honest, one could hardly be mistaken about that jewel-like purple she had been clad in. To him, for that moment, she had looked like a column of purple flame, glittering. Burning. Catching his eyes, and keeping them trained on her. How could he have been mistaken about that? How was that even possible? It was as if his entire concentration... his _being_ even, had been trained on her at that very moment. No. _Billu_ was there. Arnav knew it. She had pulled her _Cinderella Act_, leaving behind her version of a glass shoe - the proof of her existence. The proof of it, the purple flowered fascinator still sat on his home office table. The Louis XV antique roll-top table that had probably belonged to his pseudo english great grandmother and now belonged to him. He smiled, wondering what she would have made of how callously he had treated it since it came into his possession. Arnav lowered the dark aviators over his expressionless eyes and turned to look at Aman. The young detective was trying very hard not to look at his lieutenant. As if he was a wild animal of some kind - a sudden eye contact might set him off. Arnav almost laughed again. Maybe someday he'd tell the younger man that it wasn't such a big deal but now, terrorizing the young, newly minted detective just seemed like the thing to do when he had some off time. Aman couldn't figure out what the detective lieutenant was doing with him, on the way to _Lakshminagar_, on a regular sweep - on his way to to check out on a possible suspect; the whore's _john_. Why would the lieutenant come with him on something so menial? So trivial? So, in the way of the young, as was the custom, Aman had decided that it was about him. The lieutenant must not be happy with the way things were. With what he was doing. Therefore, the younger man was quite upset and very very careful around his mercurial boss. Brilliant man... but... he sighed, life wasn't fair. Or else what would _he_ be doing in the crosshairs of Arnav Singh Raizada?

Arnav looked on ahead, as the man beside him drove towards the little part of Delhi that if Aman was to be believed, Arnav wouldn't even know, existed. He smiled to himself. Wouldn't you be surprised Aman if you only knew. Then, they pulled in. _Lakshminagar chawl._ Arnav stepped down, bidding himself to think of _now_, instead of being lost in last night. In green, gold-tinged eyes. In what that might mean. What to say to her when he eventually tracked her down...

Then he heard it - _Lucknowi urdu _in the middle of Delhi? Arnav whipped his head around before he knew what he was doing- the hauntingly familiar husky melody making his eyes go wide in wonder. Was it... Could it be? "_Oye ahmeq-o! Hamara pani kahan gayab ho gaya, oye bewaqufon ke Baccho? Pani chala do! Abhi! Warna..." _

The threats came pouring out and Arnav didn't flinch. Not once. He was transfixed. Here. In the middle of one of the poorer parts of new Delhi, stood the woman with green eyes streaked with gold. The woman who had worn a fortune in emeralds, and diamonds last night at the Delhi Taj. The woman who now stood wearing a cheap cotton suit in white and blue. The same woman (of which he was sure!) who had sixties inspired wave with a Phillip Treacy (yes he checked) fascinator perched on it. _That same_ woman, who had been haunting his every waking moment (And his dreams too, but that he would never admit- even to himself- not even under threat of life) since the past three odd months. She now stood in the courtyard of the _chawl_ shouting threats about doing grievious bodily harms to the men who had apparently cut off her water-supply. The dark, shiny hair that he had seen in waves, curls and styled before- was now hanging in a heavy looking braid down her shoulder, ending somewhere near her midriff. Her small oval face gleamed- _glowed_ beautifully even now, her rose and ivory skin bare of makeup, she still transfixed him. As much as she had decked in silk. Even more so because, this.. _this_ was just another facet of his _Billu Rani -_ of that, he was very very sure. She flicked her braid away with a panache one would usually associate with the firecracker girl in front of him. _Not_ a shade of the polished society diva stayed. Who was she? _What_ was she?

He watched as she tied the pale blue _dupatta_ at her waist, shaking her head as the flicks of hair fell into her eyes and on her forehead, as her scowl remained etched on her face, her emerald green-gold flecked eyes glinting in anger, as her hands rested themselves on her slim hips- and he still gazed transfixed. Arching an eyebrow, she waited for the one of the men to come down. When he did, she tore a strip off of him - language salty enough to make _Aman_ blush, who Arnav noted, distractedly, was watching the beautiful girl rip the men a new one. The man, a hulking giant stood bashfully, scratching his head while Ms. Billu went on and on, hands arching gracefully, the glass bangles at her wrist tinkling with a particular glee. The sparkled in the watery sunlight. It just seemed so natural to Arnav that even he felt... shaken. Poetry in his heart, who would have guessed? She was a creature made up of smoke and glass, light and sparks. She was what poets would probably have written about when they envisioned goddesses. Arnav felt... _compelled_ to be near her. To find her. Who would have thought that Arnav could have felt that way? Then she turned around, leaving the hulking giant behind her staring at after her like a lovesick puppy. Did she know the effect she had on men? Arnav noted her glance; a quick one - barely noticeable. Lips pursed with a naughty smile. Yes. She wasn't a naive one, this firecracker of a woman. She knew _exactly_ what was happening here. Damned if Arnav didn't just like her all the more because of it! The water supply was soon turned on it seemed, and the girl came back with a dish of... _jalebis? _5 points for motivational bonuses Billu, Arnav thought with a very wry smile. Not that her flashing smile, glowing eyes weren't motivational enough but still... While the men dug in, she stood, lips pursed with a secret smile. As if laughing at the world. As if thinking that _this _was exactly as smart as men got. That there were none her equal. Only if Arnav could show her that there was. Now only if he could find out who _she_ was? Arnav looked to find Aman watching her just as avidly. Maybe thinking along the same lines. Arnav shrugged. Well, not _exactly_, he grinned. He was quite sure that the shy Aman neither had the imagination or the bravery where women were concerned to think what Arnav had been thinking right then. He was about to making a laughing retort when he suddenly turned around to see - _Billu _was gone. Arnav looked around, turning on his heels in an almost 360 degrees turn - _Billu __**was**__gone. _He looked around, but in that crowded chawl, with people crawling all over the streets, she could have disappeared _anywhere._ The workmen too had moved on, before Arnav could have his chance to ask around about that elusive girl who had nearly driven him insane. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck it all to hell! Not again! Fuck! _He swore, violently, watching as Aman stood, blinking dreamily at the spot where Billu Rani had stood not quite five minutes ago. Cinderella act again. He growled. _Idiot, _he thought as Aman looked on, with a grin on his face_. _Arnav didn't know why but that pissed him off - "_If you are done mooning after the unsuspecting __**girl**__there Aman, let's get going?_" he asked pleasantly, causing the younger man's face to catch on fire. He quickly nodded, stammering and ran after his superior. He wasn't the _only_ person looking at the beautiful girl, Aman thought, bewildered. For a moment, he had almost thought that _ASR _ (as he privately called his boss) was human. Guess not, he shrugged. Most likely he was checking the perimeters. _ASR's_ taste in women was notorious. How can a simple girl from _Lakshminagar _compare? And... _What a girl... _Aman shook his head at his thoughts, smiling, strode after his long-legged boss.

Anyone who had lived as she had, probably would have found life at _Lakshminagar_ a bit of a setback - if Khushi was in the mood for understating something, she could definitely say so. However... Khushi had found out that it was here in _Lakshminagar_ that she could rest and retreat from the world. It was right here at _Lakshminagar _where she could hide in plain sight. The world could be wondering about the green eyed woman who had transfixed the heir to the Raina fortune. The languid beauty. They would never track her down _here_. Therein lay Khushi's biggest advantages. Khushi lived here at the chawl (when the mood struck) with her _Bua_. Khushi loved her but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if the old woman was senile... or semi-senile. She couldn't be _that_ thick! She didn't notice that her niece wasn't who she said she was... Or was it that she had but pretended not to? Khushi didn't know. Surely, surely it couldn't be that easy? It always felt as if the Sword of Damocles hung over her shoulders - ready to fall any given time. Khushi shrugged the thought away. There was a lot to do before the inevitable happened. There was a lot she had to accomplish. A lot she would like to finish. Now was not the time to give into maudlin sentiments. Khushi would... "_Titaliyaaaaaaaa!" _ ahh, Khushi shrugged, grinning. Buaji summons.

One thing Khushi always appreciated about her Buaji was how _larger than life _she was. No. She wasn't talking about her weight (although she wasn't a petite woman, bless her heart). Buaji was a woman whose voice boomed. She took big steps. Strode instead of walking. She served big portions and, Khushi thought smiling, had a heart to match. Khushi was capable of keeping Buaji in a far more comfortable position - better housing, prettier home, more money but, then she would have to tell her Buaji _where_ the money was coming from, on her salary as a "secretary" to a rich woman. Khushi laughed. If she was honest to herself, Buaji wouldn't really live anywhere else except for _Lakshminagar._ She had come here from Lucknow as a young bride of 17, and all these years later - this is where she felt most at home at. Khushi would never hurt her in anyway. Taking her away from this place would most definitely be so. So, Khushi just did what she could. Tried to make Buaji's life a little easier everyday. More ration. Better fans. She had been gearing up to by an air conditioner but she was wondering how she would explain it to her aunt. Well, she shrugged, she'd think of something. Delhi summers were a killer. Her aunt (much as she would like to pretend otherwise) was not as young as she had been once. It was Khushi's job to make her life easier. After all, she was the only one who had taken in the daughter of her estranged brother without a peep or a reprimand. She had raised Khushi with all the love in her heart. Khushi owed her her entire existence. Buaji was still calling at the top of her voice and Khushi skipped in, resembling the very butterfly her aunt referred to her as.

"_Titaliyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_ her Bua was at it, she thought with a smile. What had gotten the easily excitable woman stirred up this time? "Yes Buaji?" Khushi smiled, eyes dancing, unable to quite suppress her glee. "Titaliya, go check what those _ahmeqs_ are up to! The last time I went to the kitchen, the water was turned off! What are those idiots thinking, I ask you? Turning off our water. Why, I oughta..." Buaji was on a roll, Khushi thought with a private smile. Let her have her say. There were things being said about ungrateful, audacious wretches. About death. Dismemberments. About the might in one of her slaps. Khushi just stood and waited. Until the old woman ran out of steam. She huffed. Muttering about useless men of this era. Khushi decided to chime in before she started on again. "Buaji!" she butted in. "I spoke to them already. The water is back!" Her aunt geared back and looked at her. Smiling bemusedly. She went into the kitchen and turned on the tap, when the water rushed out she giggled. "You are a good girl _Titaliyaa_," she happily proclaimed. "You do so much! Your _abba_ would have been so proud of you..." she added sentimentally, not noting that Khushi had frozen. She probably would have said more had Khushi not decided to make a run for it. "Yes Buaji, thank you. Buaji, I will be in town tonight. Madame wants me to stay and do some work. Do you need anything? Ration? Soap?" Her aunt nodded, "No _bitiya,_ you get going. I wouldn't feel comfortable with you going there in the dark. I have so many serials on the new tv you bought for me! Time passes like _that!_" She snapped her stubby little fingers as if to demonstrate it. Khushi nodded distractedly at her aunt, and smiling, she walked out. There was a text in her phone. The number held her rooted, for a moment. Their message collector had found a new one, it seemed. Something about that particular message though, worried her more than she let on.

_**Y-Candies need moving. Ye? Nay? Answers needed today. **_

Khushi quickly texted back: **"Nay"**

Y-Candies. Crystal. It was a pretty well known fact that they didn't deal with drugs. Why had they been approached? How had they found their message system? Theirs was not a well-known system. Infact, Khushi and NK had made sure that they were thought to be incredible remote. Then... how had they been tracked down? That too to move something they had never worked with. And... what bothered her more was, if they had found that much, how long before they figured out who Khushi and NK were? There were things she and NK had to figure out. Now. As soon as they could. Meanwhile, Khushi had to develop a new message system. Maybe she would finally give in to NK's internet things. He would dabble. He would build. Khushi had full faith in that. He wanted to make a virtual message box that was virtually untraceable? He can do it this time around. Things were getting more _immoral _for them than Khushi had assumed. They needed to get off the grid again. That's how they had remained safe for so long... and it was something that they couldn't compromise on. Either of them. There was just far too much to lose with this. Drawing out her phone she dialled, "Where are you? I need you to pick me up _ASAP! We have trouble. "_ Khushi pulled herself together, and with a fake smile pasted on her face, walked towards Buaji again. Might as well chat with her to pass the time.

Arnav had just stepped out of a musty-smelling shack of a room on the third floor of the _chawl, _after he'd watched Aman terrifying the whore's _john_ into near-incoherence with unusual gusto. Well, he shrugged, making Aman think that he was not satisfied with his work helped here. He had just rolled his shoulders and whipped his Aviators out and was in the process of putting them on, when he saw the pale blue flash that he had been dying to see. It was _her_. _Billu Rani._

She was almost running down the corridor- her face a troubled mask. He had just turned to follow her and pin her down this time, when he heard a loud voice call out behind them and he turned back. A heavy looking woman, with a traditional _ghungat_ on her head and a sandal _teeka _on her forehead was calling out to... _Billu_.

"Arey O Titaliyaaa! Wapas kab ayegi, bitiya?"

He heard that husky voice answer in a loud- "KAL AAJAYENGE BUAJI! APNA KHAYAL RAKHIYEGA! BYE!"

His chest seemed to have heated up from the inside. _Titaliya_. He had been standing stunned for the past five seconds as the new name- the new facet of his emerald-eyed Mystery unveiled. And then it struck him. That _Titaliya_ was racing away from him again. As always. He sighed... a deep breath and then, he followed. He saw her running out of the Chawl gates as he was on the first landing and sighed. It was time for ASR to follow. And with his skills kicking in- he bolted down the rickety stairs and leaped straight over the railing of the first floor and landed on his two feet, crouching down on the ground for half a second before getting up and racing after her- full speed. His eyes never leaving her form.

He had just followed her to the end of the street and turned when he saw her making her way to a Silver Mercedes Benz at the opposite side. He followed, cursing creatively and very, very colorfully under his breath. This was not going to happen again. Not Again! He had almost reached it- it was only a few feet in front of him, close enough for him to make out the Stewie of _The Family Guy _fame hanging from the rearview mirror of the Mercedes Benz E-Class in which his _Billu... Titaliya_ had just disappeared. His eyes had already streaked to the number plate and his mind had already recorded it. This elusive woman was not getting away this time. Not if he could help it. Just then he heard that deep, amused voice- a dimly familiar voice, but not one he could place. "Come on then, _Billu Rani_! Let's go!" And as Arnav Singh Raizada closed in on the passenger door of the car, it roared and sped away, leaving him cursing, again- as billows of dust blew up around him. He turned away, then. Frustrated, yet determined as ever.

"DL 01 AH 007." He muttered, looking back over his shoulder as he dusted the dirt off his jacket and put on his Aviators again. _I'll get you, Madame Butterfly. _ He thought, and as he headed back to the chawl and to a waiting Aman, he found that he didn't particularly care for the Man who seemed to be accompanying his _Titaliyaa_ everywhere. Who was he? What role did he play in her life as a woman of... _facades?_ There was a lot that he could draw a conclusion on. Plenty of it bad... dirty. That's what his line of work meant. What made him a good detective though, was the fact that he wasn't in the habit of forming sudden, proofless hypotheses. Arnav wouldn't do it today, either. He just needed his answers. Whether the mysterious _Madame Butterfly _or _Billu Rani_ liked it or not, he would find them with the tenacity of a bloodhound on scent. He would have them. Then, he would have her. If that had sounded too arrogant in his head, Arnav shrugged inwardly, he _was _Arnav Singh Raizada afterall. The name itself was entitled to it's own arrogance.

If Aman had found it _odd_ that his superior had sped off in the midst of an interrogation which he hadn't been required to be at, then had come running back, sometime later, heedless of the dust on his very expensive jacket and dialling furiously on his phone, he didn't let on with a bat of his lash. That endeared him to his boss, a little. Arnav was furious. He had been _certain_ that all he would have to do was call his dispatch at the office and using that license plate number, he would have found the _Man_ and through him, _Billu. _Easy peasy fucking lemon squeezy - he had thought. Arnav growled with frustration, and Aman sat up, a little... apprehensive. His boss's temper, after all, was on a notoriously short fuse and he would have liked to be at least fifty paces away when it erupted -if it did. No... Arnav thought, frustrated, he should have understood it. With _Billu_ things were never even remotely _easy_. What had made him think that this would have been an exception to that fucking rule? "DL 01 AH 007 is registered to one _Rajesh Koothrapali_," the dispatch had told him in her singsong voice that Arnav didn't quite like. Okay. If he was honest, had often found that it gave him the heebie jeebies. Arnav had blinked. Did he hear that... right? _Rajesh Koothrapali?_ Arnav had asked cautiously. "Yes sir. Rajesh _Koothrapali. _An astrophysicist. Do you need his address sir? It's 2311 N. Los Robles Avenue. Where is that sir? I can't seem to recall such a street in Delhi... " Arnav swallowed. A reluctant laughter. Fucking _A! _The fucking joker had used a character from _The Big Bang Theory_ as his alias. The pathologically mute Indian character. Arnav was in the middle of a furious internal rant when the rational side of his brain sat up, and took notice of something very very interesting.

Something that Arnav should have noticed a long time back, if he hadn't been so freaking enthralled by that _creature_ he was sure wasn't quite human. Because... let's face it - no _woman_ should have the ability to do to him what she was doing, without even knowing that he existed in her vicinity. That was _dangerous_. Therefore, in Arnav's mind she was no mere woman - she must have been one of those mythical changelings they talked about in every mythology you read. Arnav shook his head to clear it. To focus. The realization. Arnav's eyes widened as he took in the full meaning. If he hadn't been this fascinated... he... Arnav swore. This was no game of _Clue!_ If he hadn't been so caught up in the thrill of the chase like a fucking dweeb being led around by his cock, he'd have seen this a lot earlier. Why was it that a woman would require that many faces? That many aliases? Why was her companion registering his car with the name of a fictional character? _This_... he realized, was no game. No.

This was far more serious than that. There was something _wrong_ in this story of Billu. He meant to find out just what. Then.. he thought, a shark-like smile flashing - one that caused Aman to slide towards the very corner of the passenger seat of the SUV they were riding on their way back to the office - Then, he thought, a dark smile emerging, causing the other passenger to gulp and pray to the various Gods, then he would have his answers. Regarding the _Man_. Regarding Billu. The former would have to go, he knew. Arnav Singh Raizada didn't... share. He clenched his fist as blood seemed to pound with a renewed rhythm through his veins, when her beautiful face flashed in front of his eyes again. _Mine._


	6. CHAPTER 5: Jamais Vu

**Jamais Vu:** Simply translated it comes to mean "_**never seen**_". _Jamais Vu_ is the opposite of _Déjà vu_ and it goes on to embody a phenomenon where the one experiences a situation that he recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems to him, very unfamiliar.

Khushi had barely strapped her seatbelt on, when the car revved for a half-second before zooming forward with incredible speed, prompting her to actually clutch the sides of her seat in panic- and turn towards her very excited looking friend.

"NK!" she exclaimed, slightly breathless, her eyebrows rising at the toothy grin on his face. "What are you, Insane?" Her eyes narrowed to slits, when her best friend chuckled- a delightful sound really, if she wasn't as pissed off.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, you retarded sonofabitch?" she huffed in irritation, as he let out another laugh, prompting her to smack a hand across his head. "Do you know what a big problem we could be in, right now?"

NK shook his head, still smiling as he glanced at her sideways- and the next words out of her mouth, the especially salty ones that she had no doubt picked up from her days of living in that _chawl_ in Lakshminagar, made his smile widen a bit more.

"Ah. Khushi, such language." he said, tilting his head as he pursed his lips and glanced at her again, even as he kept his Mercedes going at the same hair-raising speed that he always liked it to be at. Hey, he was a total adrenaline junkie. And why own a beast of a car, when you didn't have the guts to drive as it was meant to be?

He looked at his Twin, as he liked to call her in his mind, properly for the first time that morning. She looked incredibly pissed and panicked. And that could mean only two things. Either it was Buaji. Or it was them in a chance of getting caught. He raised his eyebrows. Well, he knew Buaji was fit as a fiddle- because just three days back he'd taken her to the clinic for her quarterly checkup. Really, Khushi was a real stickler when it came to her Buaji. But he could sympathize... Buaji _was_ her only living family, and whatever may Khushi like to think- she had the softest heart he'd ever known. So then, it must be the latter. He frowned, however that also was a pretty low possibility.

"What's got _your_ knickers in a twist today, then?" he asked her- ducking as another smack sailed his way. And then NK sighed as Khushi continued to frown. It really didn't suit her- all of this serious grown-up crap. He just wished Khushi could lighten up a bit and try to live her life as she pleased- just for the fun of it, and _not_ because she had some or the other responsibility to fulfill. He reached towards her with one hand, as his other stayed on the steering wheel, and he mussed her hair up a bit. "Come on Billu! Lighten up a little! And Listen to what _I_ have found!" He grinned, as she huffed a bit more- but stubbornly shook her head and opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him off, but he cut her off again.

"_Abey Billu_! Listen!" He said, silencing her, clamping his hand down on her still open mouth, and chuckling as her big sparkling green eyes widened in indignation. "Good. Now, I got hold of another corrupt cuckoo with a golden egg hidden under him!" He smiled, unrestrained glee almost dripping from every pore of his grinning face. He felt her stiffen, and he still carried on- not bothering to take his hand off her mouth, lest she interrupt him. "So, the Golden Egg this time, My Lovely Billu, is the- OW!" He yelled, she had actually _bit his hand!_ The nerve!

Khushi smirked at his disbelieving and slightly hurt expression before launching into her already prepared monologue. Without even waiting to catch a breath. So what NK eventually heard was this- "They've our mail! I don't know _how_! But those low-life bastard want us to help them in trafficking Drugs. _Crystal_, NK! We need to get off the grid- Fucking little..." and then followed a barrage of innovative curse words that comprised of all the languages known to mankind which would have made even the toughest of men cringe. Wow, Billu really was pissed, NK thought with a small smile. Of course at the mention of the drug, he had tensed but had calmed once he heard the whole reason for her panic. And then rolled his eyes. Khushi really could be such a worry wart sometimes. Well, it was his duty to ease her panic- _like always_, he thought with another long suffering sigh. But he needed to stop the car first. She needed his full attention when such things came up- and driving a car while trying to reason with Khushi, was not actually something that would come under safe driving. So, NK Raina let his Twin vent her frustrations out in peace as he concentrated solely on getting them to their _adda_ or his apartment quickly and safely.

He winked at the watchman as he drove into the Parking lot, and turned to a still talking Billu- her nose and cheeks red with all the talking she had been doing, and smirked. Well, this one was going to be a bit difficult- but he knew one thing. _He was not sitting peacefully until and unless he got his hands on that new baby sitting out there. _It would go really well with his _Golden Lady_, he thought with another wide smirk. A gift from her ardent worshiper to her. He thought, his eyes twinkling. And then, turned to Khushi Kumari Gupta again. She would just have to postpone the disappearing plans for now.

Khushi stopped talking when she saw that NK had not listened to a word of her tirade- and was now smirking at her in that I-want-it-and-I'm-gonna-get-it way he had, when he wanted to get something that had caught his fancy, and sighed, shaking her head wearily. He was not going to listen, was he?

She had just started with a soft and worried sounding "NK..." when he took her hand firmly and led her to their apartment. "No Billu. Listen me out, first. Then we'll discuss this little complication that you seem to be blowing so out of proportion." She opened her mouth, her eyes widening in indignant protest, when he shook his head- and almost dragged her into the Apartment.

"Okay, atleast let me show you _what_ has caught my eye first- and then- let's discuss like the team we are. Okay Billu?" he said, pushing her down on the Living Room couch, as he sank beside her and pulled his half open Dell Laptop on the center table towards himself. She crossed her arms across her chest and flared her nose, her lips pursing- showing him her reluctance. But as usual NK was not paying attention- instead he was typing away on that dratted machine of his. After about 30 seconds of drumming his fingers on the keyboard- fast as lightning, as only NK could be- he turned the Laptop so that the screen faced her. "Look at _this_." he said, quite unnecessarily, as her eyes had widened even more at the picture that he had wanted to show her, already. Her jaw dropped, as her eyes glistened. The Gemologist in her- and also the woman- was struggling with that pesky rational- albeit now a _very_ small- part of her mind, which still wanted to play safe. Finally, the Gemologist won- and a half-choked gasp left her mouth. "Tha-that's the... _Kamalsambhava Harivallabhi Yashaswini _Necklace... from the-" she gasped again- "The Kulasekhara Dynasty... owned by their most beautiful and successful courtesan, Yashasvi, _gifted_ to her... said to be lost after she took it off to bestow it upon her Daughter..." she looked up at him- her eyes glistening with unbridled passion and glee, now matching his twinkling Mocha orbs. "Its been... it's been here all along?" she asked him, "How did you find out? And _where is it?_"

NK chuckled darkly as he turned the laptop again, his eyes training on the beauty before him. It was... there was no other word for it. It was _Beauty_ at it's best. It was... _Extravagant_ in its beauty. Glistening Reds, Pale Yellows, Cobalt Blues, Glittering Blacks interspersed with the occasional Sky Blues and Shimmering purple; There were hardly any Gems that he recognized and having been around Khushi - he knew his share. The jewels were arranged to resemble the Goddess Lakshmi- The Goddess of Wealth in Hindu Mythology, perfectly formed face and body of golden topaz, Eyes of some glittering black stone, brows of etched black metal, lips of red stones, the glitter of the black which repeated in her braided hair. Saree drapes encrusted with polki and coloured rocks, Even the gold jewellery she had worn were perfectly detailed. Tiny filigreed necklace, bangles, headpiece, anklets were there as she stood on her own pink tinged gem (he was sure those weren't tourmaline) encrusted _lotus_- on a Red Gold Medallion. It hung from a Thick Red Gold chain, which in itself was another piece of exquisite art. The inch thick flat chain itself had intricately designed Lotuses on it- all made up of tiny pink gems with polki cut diamonds in the middle, of _that _he was sure. It was intriguing that the only jewels he had recognized were the _polki._ What were the other ones then, he thought, eyes glittering. He looked back at his Partner- sure from the expression in her eyes that she was in on this one.

Khushi reached a hand out as she caressed the screen almost reverently. Almost as if she would break it if she applied even the slightest bit more pressure. But he could sympathize. It was _that_ beautiful. "930 AD..." she murmured softly, her eyes trained unblinkingly on their new _target_. " Polki, Topaz, Lapis Lazuli, Red Beryl Emerald, Vermillion Red Diamond, Black Opal..." her fingers caressed each Gem in the picture as she named them. "Some of the rarest gemstones in the world are encrusted in it. Stuffs of legend. Indu Kotha Varma had sent his courtiers all over the world to trade and track them down. The rarer, the better!" She drew in a sharp breath, suddenly dizzy. "The _Kamalsambhava Harivallabhi Yashaswini_... supposedly lost in the annals of time..." her eyes roved over the picture of the Woman around whose neck the Necklace was supposed to have been, till her last breath- "The Necklace that brings _Wealth, Prosperity and Success._" She looked up at him- and as Emerald Green Locked with Mocha Brown, they whispered together, out loud. "Worth Billions." And in their minds- _Ours._

Arnav sat in his Cabin, his eyes fixed to the file in his hand, his brow furrowed as he read the file on one Anahita Segal formerly known as Anahita Chawri. Born on the 16th of September 1986, she had been brought up in a small and poor neighbourhood located on the outskirts of Yamunanagar, near Ambala. She had filed for an affidavit, changing her last name from Chawri to Segal- although she had kept her First- in 2005. She had moved quickly from being a small-town girl with dreams of making it big in the modelling industry who lived in the Vijaynagar Chawl, to the whore who worked at the most famous brothel of G.B Road, to a beautiful and stylish looking mysterious woman living in a spacious Apartment in Nizamuddin East. The change of locations clearly showed her quick promotion from cheap and low-paid to rich and greedy Lovers. And she seemed to have gained the riches from them. But what had caught his eye was the information given to his officers by Rasili Bai- the Madame at the Brothel in G.B. Road. _Yes, Anahita used to work in here. But... she left the brothel in only two years. I won't forget how she had stolen my Man from me. Ashfaq Rehman! Ha! Look where it got her though, Sahib. Ashfaq Miyaan told her he would show her what real money was... I guess what he really meant was Death._

Ashfaq Rehman. Arnav ran a hand through his hair. This case was getting more interesting by the minute. It wasn't a case of Murder anymore now. No. This case was much more interesting now. It had almost every little bit of what could be called crime stirred in it. Illegal Drug Trafficking being one of them. Arnav smiled wryly as he looked at the photo of the pretty looking girl who had ended up dead. The fool. Blackmailing someone like Ashfaq Miyaan tended to get you there. But now... He leaned back in his chair and fingered the gun strapped to his belt, the puzzle was finally falling into place- and Arnav Singh Raizada was determined to see it through. "Ashfaq Abdul Rehman..." he murmured, his voice silky smooth, his eyes glittering maliciously, his lips stretched in a predatory smirk, "I have you, now."

He looked up as someone knocked on his door, and frowned as a timid looking Ranjan Dwivedi pushed the door open. The boy was jumpy around him, Arnav noted with quiet amusement, frown firmly in place. "What?" he barked and was impressed that the shaken looking Junior Agent didn't flinch- but clenched his fists and looked straight at him, trying to look brave with a bit of his apprehension still shining through. He marched forward, and Arnav almost raised his eyebrows, as the march was quite stable- not a shake seemed to seep through- and placed a thick green folder on the desk. "The information you asked for... Sir. On Madhumati Chaurasiya." he said, and looked a bit flustered as Arnav almost snatched the folder off the desk.

Arnav however was blind to all this. He had eyes only for the folder- the folder that would open a door into the life of his Mysterious Madame Butterfly. That would take him to her. That would help him claim her. _His._

A hand waved the now curious Ranjan out, as Molten Chocolate eyes trained on the file of Madhumati Chaurasiya- greedily roving over each and every detail- mundane as they were- of the _Lakshminagar _Resident. Married to Chandrakant Chaurasiya... widowed in 1990... no children to call her own... His eyes went back to the picture of the rather beefy woman, _no kids_? then he remembered what he had heard just that morning..._ KAL AAJAYENGE BUAJI! APNA KHAYAL RAKHIYEGA! BYE!_

_Buaji_.

Arnav flipped through the file, as his eyes read through the contents, looking for that form which should have been in here. And there it was. The application for adoption of a minor. And he scanned the whole thing before he found what he had wanted to know from the very start. The name... _ the real name_... for that firecracker of a woman who was called Billu Rani.

And Arnav Singh Raizada leaned back in his chair again, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction and excitement. Only one name echoing through his mind... smiling as he accomplished the first step towards the Mysterious woman who was responsible for that unfamiliar knotted feeling he had in his guts, constantly nowadays... and his face broke into a smile, as he whispered "_Khushi Kumari Gupta._"


	7. CHAPTER 6: Cozen

_**Cozen**_**:** An _almost_ extinct ancient English word. It comes to mean _To swindle by artful deception._ Probably a derivation from the Italian word for a _horse trader_. Also a term for beautiful rogues.

Arnav ran up the stairs of the apartment complex in Nizamuddin East, the muggy heat in the air causing him and his team to break out in a light sweat. This was a colony known for it's conservative, upper middle class population, he mused, worrying his fingers with each other; Anahita Segal's patron Ashfaq Abdul Rehman had been certainly _generous_ with his mistress for her to be able to live here. As he always had been with his past ones - all of whom had subsequently dropped _off_ the map. His latest had been the beautiful, the very greedy and if witnesses hadn't been exaggerating - the super intelligent, Anahita Segal - the girl who came from _nothing. _Ranjan strode ahead of him, shoulders thrown back, breathing lightly, a key in hand while Payal sauntered slowly beside him, her forensic kit in hand. That one, he smiled - walked behind nobody. The elevator was broken, they had been told and Arnav and his crew had been climbing up to the 10th floor apartment slowly. It gave them time to think, and for Arnav, it gave him time to look around. Assess. To make mental notes of the neighbours. Those, he had often noticed - were the main components in any investigation. Ranjan walked up the stairs, and then stumbled, nearly falling to his knees if not for Payal who held him upright by the back of his collar. Scary woman that, Arnav thought with an affectionate smile. Maybe Payal was the human world's answer to a _black widow spider _or a _praying mantis_ he thought with a barely repressed shudder. No wonder he never saw any of her boyfriends. They probably wound up dead somewhere - with wonder woman here making their remains disappear. Arnav was having a mental chuckle when Ranjan scrambled up and, with an offended look at Payal, who shrugged carelessly. He straightened his collar, pulled his shirt down and strode towards apartment C9, the hand with the key extended towards it. They were here, he thought, looking at the wildly ornamental wooden door that bore the name _Anahita Segal_ in flowing scripts made up of bronze.

While Ranjan struggled with the uncooperative lock, Arnav took stock of the double door in front of them. Darkly stained walnut with bronze and copper accent. Antique, no doubt - it was more suitable to a _harem_ than an apartment but then, he smiled. Considering their _vic's _ occupation, it wasn't that far fetched really. It was a solid oak hand carved panel door with bronze accents; the carvings reminiscent of an odalisque of Eve standing proudly naked, displaying all her glory in the Garden of Eden with her apple. The apple was made up of tarnished bronze and it served as the door knob with the lock installed in it. Arnav narrowed his eyes and looked again. _This_ particular door, he remembered. There had been an auction held at the ITC Maurya, New Delhi. He remembered that an anonymous bidder had bought the door, part of an Afghani _Harem _in _Nuristan_. Arnav had remembered all that because his _pain in the ass_ had ordered his presence there - believing that it was a part of his job as the reluctant _heir_ to be there, work the room - meet the right people. Arnav had gone and done just _that._ Now it seemed that it was a happy accident that he had. All they had to do was trace the bidder (no doubt a dummy corporation); any good forensic accountant could probably trace it back to _Rehman_. They would have their physical link there, he smiled - just as Ranjan finally opened the door.

Payal subtly hip bumped him to one side and strode in, brisk steps ahead. Nose in the air. There were a lot to collect, more for her to see and judge. Arnav fell behind her, walking towards the bedroom - looking. Searching. It appeared as if the apartment had been searched in a hurry. The drawers were open. The closet doors hung open. The mattress overturned, with the bedding on the ground. Arnav hung back, letting Ranjan and Payal to get to work with the fingerprint dust, and the UV lights - happy to let his brain do the work while the underlings did the menial jobs. Ranjan never looked up, but he caught Payal throwing him some truly dirty looks, unafraid.

They did their job while Arnav poked and prodded. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. There was a safe that hung open - the contents, seemingly untouched. Cash. Quite a lot. A few gold knickknacks - nothing big. There were also a pair of heavy gold _kadas _in the safe. Just plain gold bangles, not especially well made. The finishing seemed hurried to him - with scraggly etchings of flowering vines - no doubt the work of a poorly skilled village goldsmith, with ugly ornamental knots at each end. Arnav frowned picking up the bangles. _Heavy. _They didn't _fit_ the profile they had constructed of the _vic_ but then, there's always a catch - that thing people called _sentiment. _Maybe that had been what had made her keep it. But, that still didn't make sense to Arnav. Broke, when she had first come in - why hadn't she pawned it off before joining the _cathouse? _Practical experience told him that that is what a desperate woman would in the first place when faced with an option like prostitution. _Sentiment_ could only go so far. Furthermore, he weighed the bangles in his hand again - _butt ugly, _he thought distastefully, but heavy. Arnav had handled enough gold in his life to make him _think. _What village goldsmith would have this much gold to waste? What woman kept something worth quite a pretty enough while she sold herself in prostitution? Arnav was deep in thought when he felt a presence behind him. _Payal._ The woman stood. Silent. Steady as a stone figurine. If not for her light breathing, Arnav wouldn't have known that his cat-footed forensic analyst stood behind him. She really was err... something, he thought with a sigh. Gesturing at the _kadas_ she voiced his concerns. "_Why would a girl, starving - forced to sell herself off to the highest bidder hold on to something this expensive? I would've been selling off whatever I owned to hold off the inevitable." _Arnav nodded, distracted. He had calls to make. Maybe a goldsmith could... _Payal _reached over and plucked the bangles off his hands without a care. She turned them over, left and right. Observing them closely without all-seeing eyes of hers. Then, Payal pressed down on the offensive looking ornamental knots, making them touch each other. "_Hey presto!" _she said, to Ranjan who had come up behind them (with considerable less finesse) to watch. The bangles parted from the middle, held together by a pressurized tension clasp that were the knots. The bangles themselves, Arnav realized were light - barely a carat. Their hollowed cavities were filled to the brim with candy red crystalline pills that gleamed in the dulled light. _Hey presto! _Arnav thought, smiling at the smug looking Payal in front of him.

He looked down at the Bangles. _Hollowed Bangles._ Quite the genius, he thought a slow smirk spreading across his face... _If only she was not dead. Foolish Bitch_. He watched as Payal snapped her fingers- quite loudly- and Ranjan scowled, producing the standard ziplock Plastic bag from his Kit. Evidence.

Now he had the _material_ for blackmail against Ashfaq _Miyaa_ too. Drug Trafficking had been one of the major problems on their hands for the past decade now. And Arnav had had many run ins with one Ashfaq Abdul Rehman on his way up the ladder. The man had been the cause of many headaches for his Superiors- but he had been virtually unreachable. Arnav had developed a grudging respect for the Man- his ingenious ways of immunizing himself to any and all relations to a crime- even _before_ he had committed the crime... His cool and polite way of putting the CBI Officials and Interrogators down when they had brought him in for Questioning, and most of all... his complete independence. Arnav had never seen the Man demand for a Lawyer in _any_ of the interrogations. The predatory smile on his face widened. _Every dog has his Days Rehman Miyaa_, he thought. _And yours are over._

Just then, the shrill ring of his phone brought him out of his reverie- and he snapped his fingers at his colleagues- _juniors_, he thought with a smirk- and gestured them to wrap the investigation up as he stepped out of the Apartment to take the call. He could very well imagine Payal flashing him the _bird_ and Ranjan holding his breath, hoping that he hadn't seen it. Terrified. Damned if it didn't make him like her even more. He checked the ID and sighed. _Nani._

Subhadra Malik, was for the lack of a better word... A Royal Pain in the Ass.

Subhadra Malik had been a Pain in his Ass for almost his entire life now. She was a stuck up, snobbish, money-minded, perennially stern and irritatingly opinionated woman who _just _didn't understand that he did not _care_ about her opinions at all- and tried to shove them down his throat anyway. She was also, His useless Mother's Mother, and that further dipped his opinion and toleration levels of her. In Fact, much to his Sister's amusement and his Dadi's astonished outrage (although Arnav knew she agreed with him, and the outrage was only a front that she had to keep up for the sake of it), he had saved her number on his phone as _Pain in the Ass_. And now, his phone Screen blinked as it read:

_**Pain in the Ass...**_

**Calling.**

He sighed again, and picked up the call. _Here it goes_. He had just put the phone to his ear and opened his mouth- a polite, _Namaste Naniji_ on the way, when he heard the familiar grating voice start on the other side. "Arnav! _Aapne itni der kyu laga di Phone uthaane me?_"

Arnav rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Really, when would he ever learn? _Not_ to answer her call. Bloody woman. It was always the same opening line. And now, he sighed, would come the patented- 'you're doing a useless job and wasting the fortune away' line. "_Wahi honge na? Gundo ke peeche bhaag rahe honge... Ya Gundo ke saath baithe honge, Sahi kaha na Humne, Arnav?_" He sighed again. Time to cut the dialogue short.

"Nani, I'm busy. Can you get to the point?_" _He asked her, his teeth gritting in frustration as he fought to keep himself from outright yelling at the woman. Somehow, this woman always managed to do that to him. He rolled his eyes, as she screeched now- "_Is that the way you were taught to talk to your elders, Arnav Singh Raizada? I knew Devyani was not paying enough attention to you children! I should have raised you...!"_

Arnav was barely clinging on to his temper now. "Nani, Enough! We can have this goddamned discussion later. Just say what you called for, or I'm disconnecting!"

He heard her irritated sniff at the other end and rolled his eyes again- _God_, but the woman was Irritating! "_I want you to attend the Party Mannan saab's Son Shartaaz is throwing tonight, at his Mansion in Greater Kailash. Make sure you go there, Arnav- you need to live up to the Raizada and Malik reputation as the sole heir to both the Families. 9.00 PM. Sharp._"

He rubbed his eyes, as he looked down at the floor, his hand going into his pocket as he fought to be civil with the dim-witted Dictator he was talking to. "Nani. I..."

"I won't hear anything Arnav. Be there. 9.00 PM."

And with that, she had disconnected. He wanted to hurl the phone at a wall, stamp his foot, and call her all the names in the Innovative Swear Words Dictionary. He sighed and slumped against the wall for a short time, trying to recompose his Cool and Collected mask- his Detective _ASR _mask, before his juniors wrapped the thing up. _Damn Nani._

There was no other way to it. He would have to go. To _uphold the Raizada and Malik names_, he snorted in contempt. But he would just have to fucking attend the fucking party. The good far outweighed the bad and the ugly here and to Arnav, that was just _that. _Maybe the generations of business in his blood spoke. He would attend. Definitely. No matter how declasse he found these nouveau riche parties. He would definitely attend. It was his duty - or as his grandmother so deftly put; noblesse oblige. Arnav had meant to tell the old lady that this wasn't Paris in the time of Louis XVII and that she was a kook - money or no money but his _Dadi's_ wonderful way of instilling manners had kept him from saying it out loud to _Nani_. But really... Crazy Bat.

There were times when he hated his Inheritance. This was one of those times.

_Dirty Dog _

_I'm, I'm a dirty dog _

_I'm a dirty dog _

The song kept pumping into his ears through his _Beats_, as he kept working on the tiny cameras with attached mics he was assembling together. It was one of his pet models. The camera had great resolution, in fact, better than the new Nikon Cameras that were in the market right now, and it had only required a little tweaking. He smirked. Gadgets. He was comfortable with them- non-living entities, things which could be trusted to do their work well, implicitly. He had designed the microphone attachments himself. A micro-programmed sound sensitive chip. With resolving and voice recognition as well as recording settings. In Fact, if they managed to programme the mics to recognize and identify their targets beforehand, he would have a printed draft of their conversations as they had them with him in his Lab. _Ah, Technology_. He smiled again. It was almost over, now only the connection to his Computer and Khushi's Network was required. This would be only phase one though. He could already feel the adrenaline pumping through his body. For him, the chase was as enjoyable and important as the Prize.

Why else would the Only son of a Millionnaire get involved in something so outright _criminal_? Cons. He had outran his shady family business conventions by miles. NK, as usual had taken a talent to a whole different level. He often wondered if it was a latent sense of competitive streak in him that he had no clue about. Why else do this? A sense of competition with his father? To see if he could outdo his shady business dealings? Or, was it something far plainer. Adrenaline? He smirked again, as he strapped the tiny camera together and connected it to his laptop for a first run. _Of course, apart from the obvious and very satisfying feeling of showing these dumb old High Society Dicks their rightful places? _Adrenaline, he thought with a small laugh. Nothing ever beat the rush that came from pulling off a successful scam. Like his mother... NK too was a _junkie_ in his own fucking way.

_I'm an outlaw (I'm an outlaw) _

_Quick on the draw (Quick on the draw) _

_Somethin' you've never seen before (Never Seen) _

_And I dare a mother fucker to come in my face _

_I got somethin' chrome (I got somethin' Chrome) _

NK kept bobbing his head to the music, a wide smile on his face - at his happiest. This is what he liked - the adrenaline rush that came before a _job_. This is when he wasn't the son of Harish Raina the millionaire software tycoon, he was _NK_; the thief. Just that. A thief. Was there one who was prouder of his ability? He didn't think so. If that gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, well - he had never really claimed to be completely healthy in the noggins now, had he? If he had, anyway, Khushi would be the first to refute the claim anyway NK laughed, moved some more, bending and twisting; the Phillips' head screw driver in his hand, wiggling it. Jobs like these, he knew - needed a delicate hand. His was one of the best - a degree in electrical engineering had made sure it was, he smiled. Although, Mechanical Engineering was something he liked too... he had attended classes for those streams too! What a use of that _degree! _He could have just as easily gone off to Caltech or Stanford for his Post-Graduate degree. The grades definitely were there but, he smiled - his passion lay somewhere else. Something vibrated in his pocket and he jerked. His phone, he smiled, lowering the _Beats_ from his ears. _Dad._

"_Beta, it's Dad," _his father announced, somewhat uselessly he thought with an ironic grin. The man liked his accolades, if nothing else. "_Ha Dad? Go on?" _he said, concentrating closely on the series of miniscule circuits that lay so beautifully in front of him, waiting for a little... tweaking. _NK style, _he thought with a wide grin. "_Beta, there's this party at Mannan Saab's haveli. I promised that you would attend in my stead. What would I do there anyway? His son Shartaaj is throwing it. Now what would an old man like me do there? It's good PR if you show up. Take that pretty girl you escort everywhere." _NK smiled. Talk about opportunities falling on your lap! "_Are there invites Dad?" _he asked casually. "_Ha beta. I'll have my secretary send them over to you immediately. Two. Make sure you work the room. We need the investments,"_ NK smiled again. Ah. The man comes through again. You could never hide honest greed for long. After promising his father that he would drum up business while he was at it, he put his _Beats _back on. The party was tonight. There was a lot to do before 9 tonight. He kept bobbing his head.

_It's Harvey baby, Christ on the arm I'm gnarly baby _

_Fuck with me? Not hardly baby _

_And you know the flow, im Godly baby _

_So lets party baby _

NK weaved around some more, swaying, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The music, when he was working - inspired him. He bobbed his head, singing along. He executed some very fancy footworks that nobody who knew him would be surprised that he knew. _NK Raina_ was incredibly _flamboyant._ He had been like this as a child, and he figured that he would be so even with both feet dangling off the edge of his grave. _NK _liked that about himself quite a bit. He wasn't shy about showing off that flamboyance either, he thought with a quick grin as he imagined Khushi rolling her eyes at that. He quickly finished off the impromptu routine with a _Gangnam_ _Style_ signature move, laughing with sheer joy, as the track clicked close. Even if someone walked in now, NK wouldn't care. He was just _that _happy.

Anyway, nobody would disturb him now. They knew that he was _busy_ with work and _stuff_. Very few people disturbed NKwhen he was busy. Ram Kakanotwithstanding, he thought with a wide grin - thinking about the middle aged man on the family's retainer who more or less raised him. Facing everything that he had ever done, every disaster he had ever wrecked with a stoic acceptance. NK smiled affectionately. When the song was over, he lowered his _Beats_ again, turning of the iPod. A phone call seemed to be in his near future now, he gleefully predicted as he picked up the phone again, _"Oye Manzaar mazhi... Billu Rani... Mouka mil gaya. The invites are here. Go buy yourself something pretty again, my treat," _He smiled into the phone as she worriedly, pessimistically outlined everything that could go wrong - everything _that _had gone wrong in the past and then, declared, in dire tones, the statistics of failed heists in the world. He just laughed before hanging up. Rituals. He was quite fond of them. Now, he'd just have to find himself a nice suit. It shouldn't be a problem he thought, with a smile. As always, NK had full faith in his father's money - _If not in him. _He put his _Beats_ back on.

_Christ on the arm I'm gnarly baby._


	8. CHAPTER 7: Drolma

_**Ningizzia**_**:** The Sumerian/Babylonian God whose the guardian of the gate of heaven; a god of the underworld. He is one of their _grey _Gods who straddles both worlds - Not wholly bad or wholly good and is known to be mischievous and play fast and loose with his _godhood_. Precedes Christian Grey in living out the terms of _Shades of Grey _by a few thousand years. A _God _of strong opinions that changes on a day to day basis; Unpredictable - not the one you want to mess with.

Khushi stood, staring at the floor length gilded mirror in the room they had allotted for the _talent _in the long cream coloured room with a gold star on the door_. Khushi had loved it... _what she hadn't loved though was the fact that she had such a tough time convincing Mannan Saab's son that no, this talent needed no help _dressing. _It had been touch and go for a while but he had later folded, after being promised a private after-party _just_ for him. Khushi had smiled; he had folded like a cheap folding chair. Men, she knew, were the same - no matter what walk of life they came from, initially. It would be a _pleasure_ skinning the idiot of his father's pride and joy. From what Khushi had heard, Mannan saab was renowned for his terrible temper. Imagining his milquetoast son dealing with it, after the jewelry went _missing,_ Khushi grinned.

She went back to looking at herself in the mirror with its whimsical garland of bulbs - like the ones used by starlets of a bygone era, studying everything critically. Her hair was in a fishtail braid, amply highlighted with washable brown gold in ombre style, with a saucy fringe over one eye- her tribute to blonde haired Helen of the old, she smiled. The crown of her head had been adorned with a tarnished copper gypsy coin band. It felt, she realized strangely _odd _to look into the mirror and see eyes the colour of turquoise where they used to be a much earthier green. True to the divas of the era, her eyes had been done in flashy copper, purple and dramatic turquoise with rhinestones in each corner, with false lashes thick enough to brush coats with, making her eyes look unnaturally wide. Pouty, glossy poppy pink mouth, highlighted with a naughty little drawn-in beauty mark on the upper right corner and darkly rouged cheeks, highlighted with shimmers. She was, she noted with some amusement, glittered and shimmering in every exposed part of her body.

Then there was the costume - A royal purple halter-neck choli with gold embroidery all over, trimmed with a darker copper edging - it was skimpier than she would like but oh so fitting for a 1960's vamp! Khushi had grinned when she had first seen it while NK had frowned, his latent protective instinct needling his conscience. A low riding skirt, slit in the middle to almost upper thighs made up of the same material exposed miles and miles of legs helpfully brushed with bronzer. The choli was attached to the skirt with three braided gold chains over her belly, and a flirty little crystal encrusted belly chain winked and jingled from another corner of her hips. Khushi had worn purple gold stiletto heels, with a gold Arabian slave anklet on one foot. An eight stranded gold beaded necklace draped around her neck, along with her emerald and gold spider-web choker, and chunky brushed gold geometric shaped earrings spilling over her bare shoulders completed the look. She turned in front of the mirror dramatically; Khushi Kumari Gupta certainly did not look _anything _like herself here; which of course was the point of the exercise, she thought. Still, her lips spread into a smile - She certainly looked like someone who could give Bindu, Mumtaz and Helen a run for their money... Khushi found that a rather fun idea. She was quite sure that the only way even NK would recognize her was her pendant. She smiled, propping up one hip in front of the mirror.

"Just once more," Khushi whispered, smoothing her hands over the sides of her lush hips. Never let it be said that Khushi Kumari Gupta missed her cue! Pursing her lips at the mirror, Khushi winked, even as she slicked on another layer of poppy pink on her lips - she'd live up to her predecessors' reputation today - it would be so much fun! Khushi just couldn't wait...Even though a sudden thought at the back of her mind gave her a pause for the breath of a second - _vamps_ _never have a good ending in films, do they? _Khushi shrugged it off. No point jinxing a golden run today. Picking up her atomizer of a vintage _Fleur Sauvage, _she liberally sprayed it on. It was a vintage _parisian _perfume, circa 1953 - lived up to the era they were trying to reformulate. Khushi laughed out loud this time... At the time she had bought it, Khushi had thought that it smelled intensely sexy. With luck, she smiled, this would help her _hold the court_ long enough for NK to have done his deed - "_Laissez le bon temps rouler," _she whispered, hearing her cue. Let the good times roll. Khushi walked towards the edge of the winding stairs befitting _Tara_ from _Gone With The Wind_. _Showtime. _

It was like he was trapped. Trapped in those inky black depths. Ever expanding, bottomless, enveloping... _ensnaring_. Her pretty... _no, not just _pretty, he thought, _Beautiful... _Her beautiful oval face radiated a different glow, something he had never seen, shining, like Fire. Her nose was an unconventional mix of pointed and slightly upturned, his eyes moved over her face, hungrily, almost. Her flushed cheeks were almost inviting! Her lips, painted a mauve red, pouty, _beckoning._ Her hair which was a midnight black, of the shade that matched those magical eyes, stood in stark contrast to her creamy milky looking skin, gathered in some complicated do at the back of her head, with a few glistening stray curls framing her face. Glittering golden and green hoops drew his attention to her delicate shell shaped ears. Her costume, which was like a flame all in itself, was hugging her intimately in all the right places, Gold and Red peeping out at him at her feet, a smooth long expanse of mouthwateringly creamy skin played hide and seek with the filmy chiffon fire that she had draped across herself. _She was like a flare_, he thought hazily, his eyes still locked on her, _calling out to him_. And there would be nothing that could stop him from going to her. And _that_ realization was what brought him out of his trance, just as the lights went out, a dim golden hue flickering over them, like the glow of dancing flames. And his Heart, which seemed to have gone on a temporary vacation in his throat uptil now, thudded back to life in his chest again. _Cue Khushi._ The girl would never miss her cue. Always rescuing him... and right now, unawares of _what_ she had rescued him from- _perhaps the greatest peril of his life_, he thought ruefully- she had done the same.

He smiled his usual charming smile, a difficult feat tonight considering his galloping heartbeat, at the glistening Fire-Princess in front of him. "Hello." He said, his eyebrows rising in surprise as his voice came out in a husky rasp, and as her cheeks flushed a rather becoming crimson almost simultaneously, her eyes twinkling momentarily before those thick lashes descended and she looked at him from under them. "NK Raina." He smiled again, his hand moving forward smoothly, caressing her small pale one, before raising it to his lips and brushing a light kiss across her knuckles, her fresh-earth and brand-new-books scent- _unconventional, in every way,_ he thought- branding every nerve fibre inside of him. He raised his eyes at her, _the Fire goddess_, he rephrased, as he watched the halo of a light red framing her, her face glowing again, zeroing in on the mauve delicacy that was her lips as they moved, "Payal," her voice was a husky melody as well, a low murmur, _a wild cat_, his over imaginative mind supplied, "Payal Sharma. It's a... er," his eyebrows rose again as a light flush colored her cheeks again over that small stumble, and yet she continued, earning and keeping his respect, "It's a pleasure, Mr. Raina."

He laughed then, _bubbles and froth,_ Payal thought, _Sunshine and..._ She shook her head discreetly, _what was going on with her?!_

"NK. Please," he smiled again, a flash of pearly whites, an elusive dimple, a twinkle of gold, her heart almost stopped. "Mr. Raina makes me feel like my Father." She blinked. Had that beautiful smile turned bitter for a moment? She blinked again, as another dazzling one came on, _disorienting,_ she thought, even as she smiled back. An unwilling slave... but a slave just the same. Her heart stopped, her body tingling as if set on fire, a blazing hot scorching flame, as his rough thumb rubbed circles on the back of her palm. Intimate. And all too soon, he had withdrawn his hand, leaving hers cold. _Wanting_.

Dismay colored her thoughts, as he stepped back, his glittery Mocha eyes still smiling, twinkling, but distant somehow. "It was a pleasure meeting you too, _Payal_." His tongue seemed to twirl around her name, caressing it, _kissing_ it, her skin breaking out in goosebumps. Small shudders running through her. "Please excuse me, but I... _hope_ I can see you again, soon?" he smiled again. And Payal nodded hazily, smiling all the time. She couldn't find _one_ offending syllable in those honey tinged words falling from those luscious... She shook herself again. _What was she_ thinking_?!_ And then he was gone. Disappearing among the milling, suddenly stifling crowd of ridiculously dressed people, _fools_, her mind supplied helpfully, even as her eyes continued to search for him... _thirstily._ _Craving Mocha and gold_, she smirked slightly, _she was craving Mocha and gold._

She straightened in a flash, a hand going automatically to the back, searching for a gun that wasn't there when the lights abruptly went out completely. Finding nothing there, she backed off, nearing a white marble pillar, back first until her back met it, so that nobody could sneak up on her. The light came back, slowly. Just a spotlight though... A golden spotlight, that hit the top of the winding staircase.

_Voh aa gaya, dekho dekho voh aa gaya!_

And her eyes widened, taking the sight in. _Helen_, she thought, _a much more slender one, but Helen just the same._

Arnav Singh Raizada rolled his eyes at the dramatic entry of whosoever was dancing to the Old Item Song, before he turned around to look at them. Stopping for merely a moment to note, that the woman had left Helen of the Old Times' behind in dressing up for the performance, as she descended down the stairs in her whimsical purple-gold heels, mile long legs crossing each other elegantly as she drifted down. His eyes slowly travelled up the artfully bronzed expanse, stopping at the tasteful anklet, to the Purple skirt, to the golden chains connecting her Top to it, again stopping on the crystal belly chain dancing on the slender waist, up the golden and purple barely there top, to a cream and bronze face. She was _sparkling_, he noted with amusement, as if a kid with newly bought sparkles had been set loose on her. Her eyelids had heavy purple and turquoise make up on, sparkly there too, her lips a dazzling shade of pink, her golden-brown (probably highlighted, he noted, _kids these days!_) hair was made up in some kind of a braid with a fringe over one eye. A copper coin band on the crown of her head completed the 1960's Vamp look she had, no doubt, been aiming for.

_Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha,_

His eyebrows rose, as she slid down the banister, completely disregarding the last ten or so steps, a bronze thigh tastefully displayed in a flash- quite enough to draw every eye in the hall towards herself. _An experienced one, then. _

His eyes followed every movement, as she twirled around the deserted dance floor once, her hand stretched out towards her... _fans_, as a bright smile blinded them all. And then, in another movement; she had drawn him towards her too. But unlike others it was not because of the exposed skin and the sensuous scythe like movements, it was because of the unmistakable flash of _emerald_, that had been haunting his dreams and his mind more than he would like to admit. _It was her_. Her. He could not be wrong on this one. There was only _one_ person who wore _that_ particular spider-web pendant, in _ that particular_ shade of Emerald, and she was dancing in front of him on a raunchy 1960's Bollywood Item Song. In a Party.

_Madame Butterfly._

Another side of this woman he had never expected to see. He was almost at the edge of the circular dance floor, following her keenly, this time, he was going to get her. Would she recognize him? He _knew_ she had seen him... at least _once,_ she had.

_Monica oh my darling, Monica oh my darling!_

She looked around at the crowd of Men, her eyes searching, a secret smile flitting across that beautiful sparkling face. She _knew_ what she was doing to them, didn't she? And she reveled in it. She twirled around the edges again, flitting just out of reach of their outstretched hands, finger wagging mischievously at many, as she smiled at them, and then she was in front of him.

_Pyaase pyaase in mere labon ke liye  
Tere honton ne hazaar vaade kiye  
Bhoolne waale koi jiye to kaise jiye  
Arre haan, arre haan, arre haan haan  
La la la la la la la la la la la la  
La la la la la la la la la la la la la  
Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

He watched, avidly, as her finger glided along those pouty enticing pink lips, her eyes winking at her many admirers, before she twirled around again, her hands drifting down her petite frame, fingers splayed, hips swaying, _like a dancing flame_, and then... her eyes met his. And in that instant, he knew that she recognized him.

Khushi felt her heart skip a beat. _Him. _ What was the good detective doing here? Work? _Play?_ The first didn't appeal... looking around, watching a svelte amazon in red and black chiffon walking towards his direction, _Play _appealed even less. Especially with the hot Amazon. Khushi straightened herself. Now was not the time to have a crisis. It just wasn't.

_Mere haalat pe rahe jo tera karam  
Voh baat bhi mujhko qubul hai o sanam  
Jiski khaatir chhoo liye the mere kadam  
Arre haan, arre haan, arre haan haan  
Arre la la la la la la la la la la la la  
La la la la la la la la la la la la la  
Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

Khushi ran a hand over his back, startling the man and drawing the eyes of the woman who made her feel less than what she was. A beautiful, tall _Amazon_. No doubt another daughter of the privilege. Khushi pouted. _You're here for a show, madame? You'll get one - with your _man_ being the focus of it._ Khushi ran another hand over his face, his features turning into stone under her fingers - sending off a twinge of a foreign pain in her heart. Was her touch that distasteful? Khushi turned around fell against him, relying more on her luck than anything else - she was gratified when he caught her waist, holding her up. Winding her arms around his neck, she swayed before twisting away all of a sudden, winding up on another gentleman's arm - an arch wink in his direction, Khushi spun away again... feeling those eyes boring into her the whole time through.

_Monica oh my darling_

Khushi swayed, shimmying... pouting, arching and turning in dizzying circles that would have made her shoe maker feel successful. Her hips shaking, hair tossing, her body bending in ways that would have made her yoga, and her gymnastic teachers proud - if she had any - peony lips pursed in naughty invitation that was unmistakable... Her focus, still _him. _ Khushi figured if she was to be tarred and feathered, she would be tarred and feathered in style. That _look _in his eyes already said what he thought of her very, very blatantly. Why would she give him the satisfaction of thinking that he had hurt her with it? Khushi would be just what he thought her to be.

_Piya tu ab to aa jaa_

_Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa_

_Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa_

_Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

Her smile felt fake as twirled and swayed one last time, her joy in dancing to one of her absolute favorite songs diminished somewhat because of that... _encounter._ Her eyes locking with Gold flecked Whisky ones one last time before she suddenly spun towards him, placing a daring, saucy peony tinted kiss very close to the side of his mouth while he stood marble still, before the spotlight dimmed and died, shrouding her in darkness, so that she could make her escape without getting caught by her Admirers... _Male admirers. _And as she made her escape, she briefly wondered why _his_ opinion of hers mattered so much to her...

_Oh Monica my darling, Monica oh my darling!_

"Its done." she heard NK mutter in her earpiece, and a part of her clenched gut relaxed. They could go home now. Away from this place... _Away from him_. Safe. All the time berating herself for her insanity. What was _wrong _with her?

Arnav resisted the urge to touch the spot at the corner of his mouth where those pouty, silken lips had left a scorching imprint. He was too stunned to move, from the moment he had drawn the most obvious conclusion of _what_ exactly she was. Feeling a somewhat foreign and painful twinge in his chest, as he realized that the woman he had been obsessing over was a... His eyes fell shut. So, _that_ was what she had been doing, hanging around with the Big Bang Theory obsessed Joker who'd registered himself as Rajesh Koothrapali! His fists clenched in an acute flash of fury, as he looked up the staircase, making out the slender form walking briskly away into the darkness.

And then, a decision dawned on him. Calming him. What difference did it make, anyway? She was still a mystery he needed to solve, and he had the money she apparently wanted. _High Class Whore or not, he was going to have her. _

Decision made, a smirk flitted around his lips as he followed the path she'd taken, completely ignoring a secretly grinning Payal, as she watched him, her brows arched.

She straightened up, as she felt a presence behind her, lifting her head from the cage of her hands, where she had rested it for some time, trying to shake the whirling thoughts in her mind, trying to get rid of _his_ godforsaken image that seemed to have branded itself in her brain cells. And her eyes, now back to their earthy green, met his in the mirror, before she whirled around and stood up. Defiance coloring every thought that raced through her mind.

He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his hands buried deep in his pockets, ankles crossed. Expensive Jacket unbuttoned, broad chest covered in an aubergine italian shirt, his collar popped up, without a tie. Rogue. _Handsome_, her mind whispered and she resisted the urge to shake her head. Violently.

His molten gold eyes twinkled, almost devilishly. A smirk lifting up the corner of his lips, The hard planes of his face giving, just enough to turn the bronze granite even more mouth-wateringly stunning.

And then, he straightened up too. Almost lazy in his predator like movements. His eyes regarding her with a quiet amusement... an almost smug expression. He strolled in, leisurely, taking his own sweet time. Detective Raizada. _Arnav Singh Raizada, _NK had told her about him. Everything. The youngest Director CBI had ever seen, successful, filthy rich, arrogant jerk. For her, he spelled only one thing. _Danger._ On every front.

"You're quite the performer, aren't you?"

The husky, throaty rasp in his voice sending a shiver through her, as his eyes slowly travelled up her form, igniting a blazing scorching flame everywhere they touched. Her eyes snapped up to meet his again. _Whisky and Gold_. Her heart thudded, _she was drowning in Whisky and Gold._

"Did you know..." he looked at the mute beauty in front of him, "_Isadora Duncan_, the famous 19th century dancer had been muse to Max Eastman? Yes. Photographer. Famous for developing Eastman colours. The company itself," she was still looking at him, giving nothing away. Well, neither was he. "Many say that she had been his mistress as well," when she still didn't talk, he looked her straight in the eyes. "I've always believed that a muse and a mistress are two sides of the same coin," she started. "I am in need of a muse, Myself. And unlike those of olden times Ms. Gupta, mine will be amply rewarded. However, she'd probably have to do more than just touch my shoulders..." he trailed off, looking into her flashing emerald eyes, waiting for her reaction. "You,_ Ms. Gupta_," he emphasized her name, and caught the almost imperceptible wince, _Ah afraid of losing anonymity, are you Madame Butterfly?_, "I would like to be Mine."

He looked on, gravely, unable to resent the bitter twinge that travelled through him, as her eyes spat ice, stepping back, his hands burying themselves in his pockets again.

"Think about it, Ms. Gupta. I think you would find it very... _beneficial._" His voice almost caressed the last word, soft, mocking. And then he turned around, walking away from her frozen form. Stopping only to leave something that looked like a card on the dressing counter near the door. And then he walked out, The cocky son of a bitch.

She walked to it, almost unconsciously. Fingering the plain white square of Paper, with his name embossed on it in black, in an elegant font.

_**Arnav Singh Raizada**_**. **

His personal phone number written below it. her fingers clenched around the card, as she looked up again, watching him walk down the stairs. The Arrogant Cocky Jerk.

Khushi slid the goddamned card next to her heart. It wouldn't do for NK to see her have it. For the life of her, she couldn't leave it lying here. Watching her mental twin slowly fade away from the crowd below and move out, Khushi clinically slid out of her costume, stuffing it into her bag, she wore a hoodie and a jeans, and picking up the garment bag, jogged out of the house using the servants' entrance. _For such a grand party_, she thought with a bitter twist to her lips, _they sure didn't treat their servants well. _The boon though was that there were no guards posted there, and even if they were, they wouldn't look at the kid in the hoodie. Khushi jogged out, towards the car park where NK was already inside his pearl grey sedan. Khushi slid in, studiously avoiding the jubilant man's eyes, while he celebrated by wildly pulling out of the driveway.

As NK drove on, eyes fixed on the roads, muttering, chatting a mile a minute, Khushi was still lost in her thoughts.

_Muse... _she thought... _muse, _feeling the hard square of the card burning against her heart_. _ The fucking _handsome... Stunning _Cocky _Son of a Bitch_! She'd pay him back in his own currency, she thought, feeling the damn card again. Wait and Watch Raizada. You just _wait and watch!_


	9. CHAPTER 8: NINGIZZIA

_**Ningizzia**_**:** The Sumerian/Babylonian God whose the guardian of the gate of heaven; a god of the underworld. He is one of their _grey _Gods who straddles both worlds - Not wholly bad or wholly good and is known to be mischievous and play fast and loose with his _godhood_. Precedes Christian Grey in living out the terms of _Shades of Grey _by a few thousand years. A _God _of strong opinions that changes on a day to day basis; Unpredictable - not the one you want to mess with.

Khushi stood, staring at the floor length gilded mirror in the room they had allotted for the _talent _in the long cream coloured room with a gold star on the door_. Khushi had loved it... _what she hadn't loved though was the fact that she had such a tough time convincing Mannan Saab's son that no, this talent needed no help _dressing. _It had been touch and go for a while but he had later folded, after being promised a private after-party _just_ for him. Khushi had smiled; he had folded like a cheap folding chair. Men, she knew, were the same - no matter what walk of life they came from, initially. It would be a _pleasure_ skinning the idiot of his father's pride and joy. From what Khushi had heard, Mannan saab was renowned for his terrible temper. Imagining his milquetoast son dealing with it, after the jewelry went _missing,_ Khushi grinned.

She went back to looking at herself in the mirror with its whimsical garland of bulbs - like the ones used by starlets of a bygone era, studying everything critically. Her hair was in a fishtail braid, amply highlighted with washable brown gold in ombre style, with a saucy fringe over one eye- her tribute to blonde haired Helen of the old, she smiled. The crown of her head had been adorned with a tarnished copper gypsy coin band. It felt, she realized strangely _odd _to look into the mirror and see eyes the colour of turquoise where they used to be a much earthier green. True to the divas of the era, her eyes had been done in flashy copper, purple and dramatic turquoise with rhinestones in each corner, with false lashes thick enough to brush coats with, making her eyes look unnaturally wide. Pouty, glossy poppy pink mouth, highlighted with a naughty little drawn-in beauty mark on the upper right corner and darkly rouged cheeks, highlighted with shimmers. She was, she noted with some amusement, glittered and shimmering in every exposed part of her body.

Then there was the costume - A royal purple halter-neck choli with gold embroidery all over, trimmed with a darker copper edging - it was skimpier than she would like but oh so fitting for a 1960's vamp! Khushi had grinned when she had first seen it while NK had frowned, his latent protective instinct needling his conscience. A low riding skirt, slit in the middle to almost upper thighs made up of the same material exposed miles and miles of legs helpfully brushed with bronzer. The choli was attached to the skirt with three braided gold chains over her belly, and a flirty little crystal encrusted belly chain winked and jingled from another corner of her hips. Khushi had worn purple gold stiletto heels, with a gold Arabian slave anklet on one foot. An eight stranded gold beaded necklace draped around her neck, along with her emerald and gold spider-web choker, and chunky brushed gold geometric shaped earrings spilling over her bare shoulders completed the look. She turned in front of the mirror dramatically; Khushi Kumari Gupta certainly did not look _anything _like herself here; which of course was the point of the exercise, she thought. Still, her lips spread into a smile - She certainly looked like someone who could give Bindu, Mumtaz and Helen a run for their money... Khushi found that a rather fun idea. She was quite sure that the only way even NK would recognize her was her pendant. She smiled, propping up one hip in front of the mirror.

"Just once more," Khushi whispered, smoothing her hands over the sides of her lush hips. Never let it be said that Khushi Kumari Gupta missed her cue! Pursing her lips at the mirror, Khushi winked, even as she slicked on another layer of poppy pink on her lips - she'd live up to her predecessors' reputation today - it would be so much fun! Khushi just couldn't wait...Even though a sudden thought at the back of her mind gave her a pause for the breath of a second - _vamps_ _never have a good ending in films, do they? _Khushi shrugged it off. No point jinxing a golden run today. Picking up her atomizer of a vintage _Fleur Sauvage, _she liberally sprayed it on. It was a vintage _parisian _perfume, circa 1953 - lived up to the era they were trying to reformulate. Khushi laughed out loud this time... At the time she had bought it, Khushi had thought that it smelled intensely sexy. With luck, she smiled, this would help her _hold the court_ long enough for NK to have done his deed - "_Laissez le bon temps rouler," _she whispered, hearing her cue. Let the good times roll. Khushi walked towards the edge of the winding stairs befitting _Tara_ from _Gone With The Wind_. _Showtime. _

It was like he was trapped. Trapped in those inky black depths. Ever expanding, bottomless, enveloping... _ensnaring_. Her pretty... _no, not just _pretty, he thought, _Beautiful... _Her beautiful oval face radiated a different glow, something he had never seen, shining, like Fire. Her nose was an unconventional mix of pointed and slightly upturned, his eyes moved over her face, hungrily, almost. Her flushed cheeks were almost inviting! Her lips, painted a mauve red, pouty, _beckoning._ Her hair which was a midnight black, of the shade that matched those magical eyes, stood in stark contrast to her creamy milky looking skin, gathered in some complicated do at the back of her head, with a few glistening stray curls framing her face. Glittering golden and green hoops drew his attention to her delicate shell shaped ears. Her costume, which was like a flame all in itself, was hugging her intimately in all the right places, Gold and Red peeping out at him at her feet, a smooth long expanse of mouthwateringly creamy skin played hide and seek with the filmy chiffon fire that she had draped across herself. _She was like a flare_, he thought hazily, his eyes still locked on her, _calling out to him_. And there would be nothing that could stop him from going to her. And _that_ realization was what brought him out of his trance, just as the lights went out, a dim golden hue flickering over them, like the glow of dancing flames. And his Heart, which seemed to have gone on a temporary vacation in his throat uptil now, thudded back to life in his chest again. _Cue Khushi._ The girl would never miss her cue. Always rescuing him... and right now, unawares of _what_ she had rescued him from- _perhaps the greatest peril of his life_, he thought ruefully- she had done the same.

He smiled his usual charming smile, a difficult feat tonight considering his galloping heartbeat, at the glistening Fire-Princess in front of him. "Hello." He said, his eyebrows rising in surprise as his voice came out in a husky rasp, and as her cheeks flushed a rather becoming crimson almost simultaneously, her eyes twinkling momentarily before those thick lashes descended and she looked at him from under them. "NK Raina." He smiled again, his hand moving forward smoothly, caressing her small pale one, before raising it to his lips and brushing a light kiss across her knuckles, her fresh-earth and brand-new-books scent- _unconventional, in every way,_ he thought- branding every nerve fibre inside of him. He raised his eyes at her, _the Fire goddess_, he rephrased, as he watched the halo of a light red framing her, her face glowing again, zeroing in on the mauve delicacy that was her lips as they moved, "Payal," her voice was a husky melody as well, a low murmur, _a wild cat_, his over imaginative mind supplied, "Payal Sharma. It's a... er," his eyebrows rose again as a light flush colored her cheeks again over that small stumble, and yet she continued, earning and keeping his respect, "It's a pleasure, Mr. Raina."

He laughed then, _bubbles and froth,_ Payal thought, _Sunshine and..._ She shook her head discreetly, _what was going on with her?!_

"NK. Please," he smiled again, a flash of pearly whites, an elusive dimple, a twinkle of gold, her heart almost stopped. "Mr. Raina makes me feel like my Father." She blinked. Had that beautiful smile turned bitter for a moment? She blinked again, as another dazzling one came on, _disorienting,_ she thought, even as she smiled back. An unwilling slave... but a slave just the same. Her heart stopped, her body tingling as if set on fire, a blazing hot scorching flame, as his rough thumb rubbed circles on the back of her palm. Intimate. And all too soon, he had withdrawn his hand, leaving hers cold. _Wanting_.

Dismay colored her thoughts, as he stepped back, his glittery Mocha eyes still smiling, twinkling, but distant somehow. "It was a pleasure meeting you too, _Payal_." His tongue seemed to twirl around her name, caressing it, _kissing_ it, her skin breaking out in goosebumps. Small shudders running through her. "Please excuse me, but I... _hope_ I can see you again, soon?" he smiled again. And Payal nodded hazily, smiling all the time. She couldn't find _one_ offending syllable in those honey tinged words falling from those luscious... She shook herself again. _What was she_ thinking_?!_ And then he was gone. Disappearing among the milling, suddenly stifling crowd of ridiculously dressed people, _fools_, her mind supplied helpfully, even as her eyes continued to search for him... _thirstily._ _Craving Mocha and gold_, she smirked slightly, _she was craving Mocha and gold._

She straightened in a flash, a hand going automatically to the back, searching for a gun that wasn't there when the lights abruptly went out completely. Finding nothing there, she backed off, nearing a white marble pillar, back first until her back met it, so that nobody could sneak up on her. The light came back, slowly. Just a spotlight though... A golden spotlight, that hit the top of the winding staircase.

_Voh aa gaya, dekho dekho voh aa gaya!_

And her eyes widened, taking the sight in. _Helen_, she thought, _a much more slender one, but Helen just the same._

Arnav Singh Raizada rolled his eyes at the dramatic entry of whosoever was dancing to the Old Item Song, before he turned around to look at them. Stopping for merely a moment to note, that the woman had left Helen of the Old Times' behind in dressing up for the performance, as she descended down the stairs in her whimsical purple-gold heels, mile long legs crossing each other elegantly as she drifted down. His eyes slowly travelled up the artfully bronzed expanse, stopping at the tasteful anklet, to the Purple skirt, to the golden chains connecting her Top to it, again stopping on the crystal belly chain dancing on the slender waist, up the golden and purple barely there top, to a cream and bronze face. She was _sparkling_, he noted with amusement, as if a kid with newly bought sparkles had been set loose on her. Her eyelids had heavy purple and turquoise make up on, sparkly there too, her lips a dazzling shade of pink, her golden-brown (probably highlighted, he noted, _kids these days!_) hair was made up in some kind of a braid with a fringe over one eye. A copper coin band on the crown of her head completed the 1960's Vamp look she had, no doubt, been aiming for.

_Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha,_

His eyebrows rose, as she slid down the banister, completely disregarding the last ten or so steps, a bronze thigh tastefully displayed in a flash- quite enough to draw every eye in the hall towards herself. _An experienced one, then. _

His eyes followed every movement, as she twirled around the deserted dance floor once, her hand stretched out towards her... _fans_, as a bright smile blinded them all. And then, in another movement; she had drawn him towards her too. But unlike others it was not because of the exposed skin and the sensuous scythe like movements, it was because of the unmistakable flash of _emerald_, that had been haunting his dreams and his mind more than he would like to admit. _It was her_. Her. He could not be wrong on this one. There was only _one_ person who wore _that_ particular spider-web pendant, in _ that particular_ shade of Emerald, and she was dancing in front of him on a raunchy 1960's Bollywood Item Song. In a Party.

_Madame Butterfly._

Another side of this woman he had never expected to see. He was almost at the edge of the circular dance floor, following her keenly, this time, he was going to get her. Would she recognize him? He _knew_ she had seen him... at least _once,_ she had.

_Monica oh my darling, Monica oh my darling!_

She looked around at the crowd of Men, her eyes searching, a secret smile flitting across that beautiful sparkling face. She _knew_ what she was doing to them, didn't she? And she reveled in it. She twirled around the edges again, flitting just out of reach of their outstretched hands, finger wagging mischievously at many, as she smiled at them, and then she was in front of him.

_Pyaase pyaase in mere labon ke liye  
Tere honton ne hazaar vaade kiye  
Bhoolne waale koi jiye to kaise jiye  
Arre haan, arre haan, arre haan haan  
La la la la la la la la la la la la  
La la la la la la la la la la la la la  
Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

He watched, avidly, as her finger glided along those pouty enticing pink lips, her eyes winking at her many admirers, before she twirled around again, her hands drifting down her petite frame, fingers splayed, hips swaying, _like a dancing flame_, and then... her eyes met his. And in that instant, he knew that she recognized him.

Khushi felt her heart skip a beat. _Him. _ What was the good detective doing here? Work? _Play?_ The first didn't appeal... looking around, watching a svelte amazon in red and black chiffon walking towards his direction, _Play _appealed even less. Especially with the hot Amazon. Khushi straightened herself. Now was not the time to have a crisis. It just wasn't.

_Mere haalat pe rahe jo tera karam  
Voh baat bhi mujhko qubul hai o sanam  
Jiski khaatir chhoo liye the mere kadam  
Arre haan, arre haan, arre haan haan  
Arre la la la la la la la la la la la la  
La la la la la la la la la la la la la  
Piya tu ab to aa jaa  
Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa  
Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa  
Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

Khushi ran a hand over his back, startling the man and drawing the eyes of the woman who made her feel less than what she was. A beautiful, tall _Amazon_. No doubt another daughter of the privilege. Khushi pouted. _You're here for a show, madame? You'll get one - with your _man_ being the focus of it._ Khushi ran another hand over his face, his features turning into stone under her fingers - sending off a twinge of a foreign pain in her heart. Was her touch that distasteful? Khushi turned around fell against him, relying more on her luck than anything else - she was gratified when he caught her waist, holding her up. Winding her arms around his neck, she swayed before twisting away all of a sudden, winding up on another gentleman's arm - an arch wink in his direction, Khushi spun away again... feeling those eyes boring into her the whole time through.

_Monica oh my darling_

Khushi swayed, shimmying... pouting, arching and turning in dizzying circles that would have made her shoe maker feel successful. Her hips shaking, hair tossing, her body bending in ways that would have made her yoga, and her gymnastic teachers proud - if she had any - peony lips pursed in naughty invitation that was unmistakable... Her focus, still _him. _ Khushi figured if she was to be tarred and feathered, she would be tarred and feathered in style. That _look _in his eyes already said what he thought of her very, very blatantly. Why would she give him the satisfaction of thinking that he had hurt her with it? Khushi would be just what he thought her to be.

_Piya tu ab to aa jaa_

_Shola sa mann daheke, aake bujha jaa_

_Tan ki jwaala thandi ho jaaye, aise gale laga jaa_

_Aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha, aa ha aha_

Her smile felt fake as twirled and swayed one last time, her joy in dancing to one of her absolute favorite songs diminished somewhat because of that... _encounter._ Her eyes locking with Gold flecked Whisky ones one last time before she suddenly spun towards him, placing a daring, saucy peony tinted kiss very close to the side of his mouth while he stood marble still, before the spotlight dimmed and died, shrouding her in darkness, so that she could make her escape without getting caught by her Admirers... _Male admirers. _And as she made her escape, she briefly wondered why _his_ opinion of hers mattered so much to her...

_Oh Monica my darling, Monica oh my darling!_

"Its done." she heard NK mutter in her earpiece, and a part of her clenched gut relaxed. They could go home now. Away from this place... _Away from him_. Safe. All the time berating herself for her insanity. What was _wrong _with her?

Arnav resisted the urge to touch the spot at the corner of his mouth where those pouty, silken lips had left a scorching imprint. He was too stunned to move, from the moment he had drawn the most obvious conclusion of _what_ exactly she was. Feeling a somewhat foreign and painful twinge in his chest, as he realized that the woman he had been obsessing over was a... His eyes fell shut. So, _that_ was what she had been doing, hanging around with the Big Bang Theory obsessed Joker who'd registered himself as Rajesh Koothrapali! His fists clenched in an acute flash of fury, as he looked up the staircase, making out the slender form walking briskly away into the darkness.

And then, a decision dawned on him. Calming him. What difference did it make, anyway? She was still a mystery he needed to solve, and he had the money she apparently wanted. _High Class Whore or not, he was going to have her. _

Decision made, a smirk flitted around his lips as he followed the path she'd taken, completely ignoring a secretly grinning Payal, as she watched him, her brows arched.

She straightened up, as she felt a presence behind her, lifting her head from the cage of her hands, where she had rested it for some time, trying to shake the whirling thoughts in her mind, trying to get rid of _his_ godforsaken image that seemed to have branded itself in her brain cells. And her eyes, now back to their earthy green, met his in the mirror, before she whirled around and stood up. Defiance coloring every thought that raced through her mind.

He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his hands buried deep in his pockets, ankles crossed. Expensive Jacket unbuttoned, broad chest covered in an aubergine italian shirt, his collar popped up, without a tie. Rogue. _Handsome_, her mind whispered and she resisted the urge to shake her head. Violently.

His molten gold eyes twinkled, almost devilishly. A smirk lifting up the corner of his lips, The hard planes of his face giving, just enough to turn the bronze granite even more mouth-wateringly stunning.

And then, he straightened up too. Almost lazy in his predator like movements. His eyes regarding her with a quiet amusement... an almost smug expression. He strolled in, leisurely, taking his own sweet time. Detective Raizada. _Arnav Singh Raizada, _NK had told her about him. Everything. The youngest Director CBI had ever seen, successful, filthy rich, arrogant jerk. For her, he spelled only one thing. _Danger._ On every front.

"You're quite the performer, aren't you?"

The husky, throaty rasp in his voice sending a shiver through her, as his eyes slowly travelled up her form, igniting a blazing scorching flame everywhere they touched. Her eyes snapped up to meet his again. _Whisky and Gold_. Her heart thudded, _she was drowning in Whisky and Gold._

"Did you know..." he looked at the mute beauty in front of him, "_Isadora Duncan_, the famous 19th century dancer had been muse to Max Eastman? Yes. Photographer. Famous for developing Eastman colours. The company itself," she was still looking at him, giving nothing away. Well, neither was he. "Many say that she had been his mistress as well," when she still didn't talk, he looked her straight in the eyes. "I've always believed that a muse and a mistress are two sides of the same coin," she started. "I am in need of a muse, Myself. And unlike those of olden times Ms. Gupta, mine will be amply rewarded. However, she'd probably have to do more than just touch my shoulders..." he trailed off, looking into her flashing emerald eyes, waiting for her reaction. "You,_ Ms. Gupta_," he emphasized her name, and caught the almost imperceptible wince, _Ah afraid of losing anonymity, are you Madame Butterfly?_, "I would like to be Mine."

He looked on, gravely, unable to resent the bitter twinge that travelled through him, as her eyes spat ice, stepping back, his hands burying themselves in his pockets again.

"Think about it, Ms. Gupta. I think you would find it very... _beneficial._" His voice almost caressed the last word, soft, mocking. And then he turned around, walking away from her frozen form. Stopping only to leave something that looked like a card on the dressing counter near the door. And then he walked out, The cocky son of a bitch.

She walked to it, almost unconsciously. Fingering the plain white square of Paper, with his name embossed on it in black, in an elegant font.

_**Arnav Singh Raizada**_**. **

His personal phone number written below it. her fingers clenched around the card, as she looked up again, watching him walk down the stairs. The Arrogant Cocky Jerk.

Khushi slid the goddamned card next to her heart. It wouldn't do for NK to see her have it. For the life of her, she couldn't leave it lying here. Watching her mental twin slowly fade away from the crowd below and move out, Khushi clinically slid out of her costume, stuffing it into her bag, she wore a hoodie and a jeans, and picking up the garment bag, jogged out of the house using the servants' entrance. _For such a grand party_, she thought with a bitter twist to her lips, _they sure didn't treat their servants well. _The boon though was that there were no guards posted there, and even if they were, they wouldn't look at the kid in the hoodie. Khushi jogged out, towards the car park where NK was already inside his pearl grey sedan. Khushi slid in, studiously avoiding the jubilant man's eyes, while he celebrated by wildly pulling out of the driveway.

As NK drove on, eyes fixed on the roads, muttering, chatting a mile a minute, Khushi was still lost in her thoughts.

_Muse... _she thought... _muse, _feeling the hard square of the card burning against her heart_. _ The fucking _handsome... Stunning _Cocky _Son of a Bitch_! She'd pay him back in his own currency, she thought, feeling the damn card again. Wait and Watch Raizada. You just _wait and watch!_


	10. CHAPTER 9: AEGLE

_**Aegle (Ancient Greek: Α**__**ἴ**__**γλη)**_**:** Meaning "Dazzling Light". The most beautiful of the Naiads (Celestial Nymphs), daughter of Zeus and Neaera, by whom Helios begot the Charites. She is where creativity and kindness started. She signifies all that is good and right about mankind; in the oddest ways possible.

She had tested the drugs - conclusively. The drugs found in the hollow gold bangles. They _were_ a derivative of Meth; but it was neither refined as Yabba, nor was it as fast acting as pure Methamphetamines, but with all and more of it's aphrodisiac-like tendencies - it was something new and possibly far more dangerous than both combined. The street name, she had been told - was Y-crystals. As a scientist, she couldn't but be impressed at the precise knowledge taken to cook this up - but as a CBI agent, she was horrified. Payal put down the sample, cleaning up after herself. The chemical composition had told them enough - this wasn't a backdoor kitchen-lab cooked meth; no. _This _ was sophisticated work: Done by a chemist excelling in his or her field and, _this_ was the second time this week that this drug had been used _intentionally_ to murder someone. Arnav sir and the others where there right now; Payal had come back with the samples. What did it all add up to?

She rolled down the sleeves of her simple grey shirt, before shouldering the darker ash-blue jacket and her bag. Nobody looking at her would think of a Glamazon, she knew. In her street clothes, she looked very... capable. Payal sighed, wondering why that felt like such an insult. She sighed again, slowly walking out of the CBI compound. She knew, _why._ It was her job as a scientist to ask questions, to establish hypothesis before proving a theory. It was that man with all that _issues,_ the man with those rich toffee coloured eyes. NK Raina. Thinking of him made her despondent; maybe that's why thinking about a man was the wrong thing to do. Payal had never thought of one beyond friendship up until now - she had wanted it all. Good grades, a great career. Men would have been stumbling blocks in her path. She wanted none. Now... she sighed. What was going on with her? Why would she be thinking ab0ut a man whose orbit had no space for a low paid government employee? Would he have looked at her if she hadn't been decked in luxurious, borrowed plumes suited for more exotic birds rather than a plain brown wren like her? She didn't think so. Unlike others, Payal didn't really care about it, usually. Then, why did it smart today? She didn't know... Something told her, that it was an answer best not known. She would rather focus on the Y-Crystal's chemical structure. Once she would determine it, she would start searching for a chemist present in India good enough to make something so complex - there couldn't be that many. The moment she tracked him down, she knew that everything would be alright. It had to be, really. Payal had worked for years to be where she was, right now. There were no safety nets waiting for her in the form of family fortunes to rescue her when she got bored with her job. This was all she had. The product of years and years of sacrifice. She wasn't going to give up on it now, because some man with odd colored eyes was jamming her signals.

She noticed that her breathing was getting choppy, with a scientist's curiosity. Why was that the case? Was it because she felt a latent sort of guilt for thinking about Arnav sir as she had, so ungraciously. She knew how hard he usually worked, after all. Or, was it because she was affected somehow by the thought of never meeting the man again? _That_ man. Why was it important to meet him again? What difference did it make whether he found her interesting, or appealing or, _not_? She was, nothing but an investigator whose interest only lay in her investigation. Yet, wasn't it an interesting phenomenon that she had taken up reading page 3 magazines - less for her movie stars, more for a much coveted glimpse into the life of a man who interested her ceaselessly.

What _was_ it about him, she thought, irritated now. Was it those Mocha and Gold eyes that

had twinkled so beautifully? Or was it that slightly dimpled smile? Or was it the raw Animal Magnetism that he'd exuded? So effortlessly charming, and yet with a touch of dangerous iciness? She sighed, she'd never met a man before that had fascinated her so... He was like Carbon, she thought - one essential element with so many beautiful compounds - so many facets. Why wouldn't she be captivated? Shaking her head, she had just stepped on the sidewalk, craving some coffee, some calorific dessert.. _anything_ to get her mind off _him_, when she collided head-first into someone.

She looked up, irritated, her tongue ready to whiplash the person into a trembling mess on the roadside, and then... she was lost. She was lost in Mocha and Gold.

"I'm sorry." He said, as he gently held her by the shoulders, stomping on the urge to lean in and take another whiff of that unconventional scent of hers. What was it, really? Vanilla? No... she sure wasn't just _vanilla_, he thought with a smirk. She was something... _exotic_. Amazon. Fire. He shook himself, now wasn't the time. But he couldn't get himself to release her, he just... _couldn't_. He watched those gorgeous black eyes, lined with the thinnest layer of kohl, as they blinked in astonishment behind those green rimmed glasses. Did she think that those glasses would shield those beautiful depths? He wondered, amusedly. He was sure she had been about to rip him one when they'd collided, but somehow, her expressions had changed, amusing him further. Her frown had quickly disappeared, and a pretty blush had colored her cream and roses skin.

"We've met, haven't we?" he asked, even as she kept on staring - those dark eyes sparkling in the watery sunlight. When she said nothing, he added, "You were at Mannan Saab's party that night. Ms. Payal Mathur, right? I guess you don't remember me - I'm NK Raina. Anjali Raizada Jha introduced us?" he trailed off bashfully. She nodded, mutely. "Its good to see you again Ms. Mathur. Are you a local? I need to find..." he made a great show of taking his phone out of his pocket and looking at it, "The Government IT office? You'll have to forgive me. I'm very bad with directions. On top of that..." he awkwardly shrugged, "I'm late for meeting my father's good friend Asgar Ali Saab for tea," He looked at his watch again, tiny frown lines appearing between his brows. "Uncle is going to think that I've stood him up," NK glanced at her again, eyes begging, "Do you suppose you could help me?" he handed her the phone containing the address.

Payal finally found her tongue, standing in front of the vision of masculine perfection, who had been haunting her for close to a week. Her cheeks and her ears, she noticed, to some surprise - were still burning. She extended her hand to grasp the phone, without even looking at it. "How do you do Mr. Raina?" she whispered, startled at how throaty her own voice sounded. "Of course I remember you. Nice seeing you again. Yes, I am a local - I work at the..." she shrugged towards the CBI office, "there... let me guide you. It's quite close by actually," and then she looked up to see him smiling. Brilliantly. "Why, thank you Payal! You're a lifesaver! I had no clue that it was close!" He followed after her, leaving a respectable distance behind her. "So... The CBI, huh? That explains why you were with Anjali. Are you a friend of Arnav Singh Raizada's?" he asked, smiling. "We were in school together. Funny, how we've never kept in touch afterwards."

All too soon, they were there, NK was smiling at her beatifically."Thank you Ms. Sharma, you saved my life!" While all she could do was awkwardly nod. Payal bade him a hasty goodbye, and had turned her back towards him, trying to walk - to escape as fast as possible. Away from the man who made her IQ drop down. Lose her vocabulary. She shouldn't even _be_ here. She had walked perhaps fifteen paces away, when she heard a thunder of footsteps pounding on the pavement. Payal turned around, surprised to see NK rushing towards her. "On the other hand," he said, breathing fast, "I never much liked tea anyway and Ali uncle already thinks that I've stood him up. An hour late, you see," He grinned again. "Payal, would you like to go somewhere for coffee? Its really nice to see you again. We never had the chance to talk the last time," Payal opened her mouth to say no, all of Arnav's warnings rushing back to her but when she spoke, all that came out was, "I'd love to, Mr. Raina," and then, she stared, appalled. What had she done? NK hadn't noticed it though. "NK, please," he said, breezily. "Mr. Raina reminds me uncomfortably of my own father and grandfather - both of whom are living," and before she could say as much as a boo, he had herded her towards his car - into the passenger seat. What had she done? Payal thought, panicked - looking out of the window. How was she supposed to handle this?

But then, he had slid into the driver's seat, and practically dazed her with that full blinding smile of his, and every thought just seemed to... fly out the window. He was wearing a Grey checked sweater, over a pair of dark wash jeans. His bronze skin seemed even more... _delicious_ in that attire, the unruly black hair flopping onto his forehead, his Mocha eyes glinting golden in the sunlight, as a gentle smile lit his beautiful face up. She felt an unfamiliar yet sensuously delightful shudder course through her, as she saw the muscles in his arms play under the Grey expanse and had to tear her eyes away from them. What was a girl to do? she sighed, exasperated with herself.

NK looked over at her, as he changed gears. She was as beautiful in her simple grey shirt and trousers attire, with her shiny, glossy hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, as she had been in that dress of Fire. Her skin glowed, her pouty lips invited... He bit back a groan. What the _hell_ was he _doing?_ He'd come to the CBI building, with Ali Uncle as an excuse, to see what exactly ASR was playing at, handing out his Personal Card to Billu. He had checked out everything he could get his hands on about every person working under Arnav, obviously. And had almost jumped with... _excitement_, when he found out that one Payal Mathur worked there too. And at that point, he had wanted to do anything to understand this mystery sitting next to him. Nothing helped. She was flustered, he noticed. Doesn't date, her file had said - now he was sure of it. Maybe if he could embed himself into the daily life of Ms. Payal Mathur - he'd know what ASR was playing at. If the thought was an underhanded, sneaky one - he'd done worse. What he didn't understand was why the thought of doing so with her soured his mood.

He shrugged, as he turned back to the road. Well, you had to do what you had to do. He wasn't going to let Arnav Fucking Raizada play with his Billu. And he could do anything for Billu. Even if he meant he had to hurt someone as beautiful and captivating as the nymph sitting beside him for it. He sighed. Even if it meant hurting himself. Billu was his responsibility, and he would look out for her. It was his duty. He shook his head, as he heard Payal sigh heavily, and looked at her.

"You seem to be one of the quiet types," he said, smiling at her, and was amused as she promptly blushed a pretty pink. "How am I supposed to enjoy my coffee if you refuse to talk, Ms. Mathur?" he asked, pulling on every ounce charm he possessed. And for some reason, his heart skipped a beat, as she smiled shyly, looking at him from under her dark long lashes. Hurting _her_ was going to be one hell of a task wasn't it? With any luck, she wouldn't even _know_. However, NK Raina, destiny's own child - didn't think luck would favor him this time.

He strode down the airport lobby, where people looked up to see him, momentarily. Why wouldn't they? It wasn't everyday you saw someone that tall striding down towards you - nearly six five on his barefoot with the narrow face of a poet and black rimmed glasses that made you think of an accountant or maybe a lawyer. He may have been fair at some point but the harsh Delhi sun had marked him as her own - bronzing him lovingly. A man that noticeable, who knew would be able to fade into the woodworks at will? He could. It was one of the things that made Aman Mishra as invaluable as he was to his CBI team - second in command to his _Boss_ - Arnav Singh Raizada. The only man who had his ear. Well, Boss... and Payal. She was the Forensic. One would think she would be a bit respectable to him, wouldn't they? But No. That woman... well, plainly put, she was scary. Nice, but scary. Wouldn't want to tap that. Aman shuddered. Wouldn't want to be the one to cross _her_! He shook his head. Rajeeb Soni, Head of Customs. Killed with one injection. Poor Bastard. He was supposed to check through the office again, where Mr. Soni had been found dead, sitting in his chair, staring at the door, fear evident on his features, by his Assistant Head. She had called the Police in- and today was going to be interrogated. Boss was quite sure that the Prostitute that had been killed and this guy were connected somehow- not in the least because of the Y-crystals. But the Asst. Head had motive, and so, she was to be interrogated. _Just covering all the bases, _he thought.

He had walked into the office, as cat-footed as he always was. The body had been moved by the M.E. office so that was something at least; no doubt the Assistant Head woman would have been throwing a fit over it - would she faint? That would be an unnecessary stress on his time but like they say, he was - for better or worse, a bureaucrat and dealing with people - even other bureaucrats was what he did - because he had to. Diplomacy, he sighed, walking into the office. She sat there - looking _nothing_ like he envisioned the Assistant Head he had envisioned. For some reason, that annoyed him greatly. Instead of chunky shoulder padded all purpose shirt, she had worn a printed, sheer mauve and cream shirt with a white wife-beater underneath. She had paired it up with a sleek pencil skirt that just covered her knees, with slits on both sides. From there came miles and miles of glossy legs straight out of vogue. There was not a pair of spectacles in sight. The face too... What a face! Butterscotch skin, with fine, clear hazel eyes and a pair of lips tilted in an unconscious smile. Aman always had a weakness for butterscotch and damned if that didn't remind him just how much of a weakness it was too. It wasn't often that Aman Mishra was caught off guard but finding the pampered model lookalike in the Assistant Head's office put him on the backfoot. Who was this? Where was the Assistant Head? Was this a air hostess? If so, what was she doing in an active crime zone?

Not wanting to be politically incorrect - he cleared his voice and tried, "Ms. Kashyap? Ms. Lavanya Kashyap?" She stood up, in those killer heels that made her legs look even longer. "Yes, and you are, Detective...?" Aman's lips upturned, a barely there. It wasn't often that people realized who he was at first meeting. Most often they thought he was a lawyer or even an accountant. He'd been told that there was a certain monkish way about him that made them think of an accountant. The woman had a sharp eye, he thought catching her eye the shoulder strap that barely showed through his well cut jacket. Did she have the nerve required to kill as well? Instinct told him no, but Aman had always been far too methodical to merely rely on instinct.

"My condolences Ms. Kashyap. I am Detective Aman Mishra and I need to ask you a few routine questions about the murder," she nodded and indicated for him to seat down. "Of course Detective Mishra, I understand," she got up and paced. "Forgive me for not being seated, I'm finding this deeply disturbing," she waved her hands around and eyes flashed animatedly. "Mr. Soni wasn't even supposed to be here today, at _my_ office - that too before I came in and I can't imagine what just went down here," her pace had quickened, Aman noticed even while filing that fact away for future reference in his head.

"How long have you worked with Mr. Soni, Ms. Kashyap?" she stilled and turned around to face him. "About two years, since I was transferred here. Six months of directly working under him ever since I had been promoted. He was... initially unsure about working with someone so much younger but I'd like to think he had come to accept it and we had been working together in relative harmony since then," he nodded. Frictions.

"Why had he been in your office today Ms. Kashyap? Care to take a guess?" She looked at him straight in the eyes. "That's what I've been wondering as well Detective. You see, I came back to find my door open. With keys that I had thought I lost and Mr. Soni dead inside. Mr. Soni's office is not in this building Detective Mishra. He had no reason to be here unannounced," Aman looked at her again.

"Ms. Kashyap, we need for you to come down at the station and give us your statement today, if you can manage it," she nodded and he noticed that her fingers were trembling slightly when she reached out to shake the hand that he had extended. So that's why she hadn't been sitting down, he thought, very curious.

"Ms. Kashyap, it would be better if you didn't suddenly take an extended vacation during the course of the investigation," he murmured while leaving, having the pleasure of watching her eyes flash. Her cheeks reddened, even as she drew in a deep breath, no doubt to calm herself down.

"I am the Acting Head of Customs now, Detective Mishra," she replied icily. "A government official can't just leave town on a whim, as you should very well know by now. If you don't, then I suggest taking a refresher's course in Government and Politics," he smiled politely at the dig and walked out. Curious.

Aman walked out, a rare wide smile on his face. Too bad he hadn't met the Assistant Head under more... amenable circumstances. Things would have been a lot more interesting than they were at the moment. Not that it wouldn't be a lot more fun now but for now, but he'd keep his nose clean. Pity. All that gleaming butterscotch of her skin... He straightened his glasses and faded into the crowd.

Arnav Singh Raizada was someone who was always sure and completely confident about each every action of his. Be it Professional or Personal. He always made sure that solid reason and unfailing logic backed every decision of his. Being a detective had taught him to not jump to conclusions based on mere assumptions, and yet not to discard assumptions altogether either. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he closed his eyes and frowned in frustration. Then _why_ had he done what he'd done that night, in the Mannans' party? He sighed and looked up as a waiter in black put a glass of neat Whisky in front of him. It had been a long day. What with the Head of Customs at Indira Gandhi International Airport being murdered, finding no clues to connect the two murders of a Whore and a high paid and respected government official, apart from the means of killing- the injection of an illegal drug in high doses into their bodies, and of course, _his_ own problem of _Madame Butterfly_ who seemed to have taken permanent residence in his head. He shook his head and looked across the room.

Tonight, he was at the Q'BA Bar in Connaught Place. The Black, Purple and White surroundings gave the place a sort of quietly cheerful ambience, The circular central bar was certainly impressive- and the cool night wind from the terrace was soothing, for once. A good place to sit and brood in- in short- while you had a strong drink.

He shook his head again, and eyed his drink. Swirling it around in the glass. Why the _hell_ had he lost his head that night? So she had danced on a raunchy song- quite provocatively- who was he to judge her on that? True, he wanted her... Oh _how_ he wanted her! But that didn't mean he would make questionable assumptions about her... or judge her on her choice of... _work._ He sighed again. But somewhere, it smarted that she hadn't called._ Yet. _A snide voice inside his head said decisively. _Yet. It should only be a matter of time, after all. He _was_ Arnav Singh Raizada, wasn't he?_

And just as he had raised the glass to his lips, someone slid into the seat opposite him, inside his booth. Someone, with long,_ long_ legs, encased in high waisted, finely tailored black Bleecker Pants, and tiny feet encased in cream pumps with cut-outs on the side with rhinestone embellishments. Gleaming, luminescent, porcelain skin playing peek a boo through long sleeved white lace top tucked in over a white and rose printed racer-back shirt. Tucked in at the waist, there was a belt - of sorts. One that resembled a red silk bow, like she was a gift wrapped and he couldn't wait to undo her to see the goodies inside.

Someone, with captivating, ensnaring Emerald eyes- the same shade as the Spider Web Emerald pendant that gleamed at the hollow of her throat.

The glass suspended motionless at his lips, as his eyes widened. His mouth falling slightly open. Agape. Trust Madame Butterfly to be the one who crept up on Det. Raizada. An unheard of feat, until yet anyway. She raised one beautifully shaped eyebrow at him. And he lowered his glass, finally finding his voice. But just as the words were about to take off his tongue, an elegantly manicured, petite hand covered his mouth- Sending shivers of white hot desires racing through his very blood. The other hand plucked his drink off the table, and the Emerald of her eyes danced with frank and haughty amusement, _and something more,_ as she took a long pull from it. Still eyeing him. And for the first time in his life, Arnav Singh Raizada found himself at a loss. His brain seemed to have gone into a temporary lockdown. His limbs and mouth refused to so much as acknowledge his commands- and still he stared at the green-eyed mystery in front of him. All his eyes could focus on was the hand holding the glass of whiskey and the odd ring she had on one of her digits. It was a diamond studded panther curled around a cloudy green stone of some kind. He knew how the panther felt, he thought with a jolt. Captivated. Rooted to the same spot.

She had placed the now half glass of Whiskey back, and leaned across the table towards him. Her hand travelling to his cheek from his mouth, as he got a whiff of her scent. Soft, seductive... _mischievous._ The pad of her thumb rubbed tiny circles at the corner of his mouth, and he resisted the urge to groan and close his eyes, giving in to her. "Assumptions, is a dangerous game, Mr. Raizada," she smiled, as the husky melody of her voice sent yet another shot of desire flashing through his veins. Her voice lowered, as she came closer, her dark lashes lowered before she peeped at him through them. Anything but coy. Challenging. "You'll never know who it's making an ass out of- you, or me?"

He stared, still as granite. And she had withdrawn. After one last swipe of her thumb against his lower lip. Standing up, Winking down at him- she had turned and walked away. Elegant. Leisurely. And he still sat there. Staring.

After what felt like an age, sanity returned. And with it- came the need to get to her. In time. And he had leapt up, throwing a handful of notes down on the table, he dashed after her. And as he ran out into the cold night, he remembered another afternoon when he'd chased after the same vixen, he looked around frantically- tonight wasn't going to be a repeat show. Not if he could help it.

And then he looked up as someone whistled past him. The car, a _very_ familiar car, with the license plate that he'd memorised a few weeks ago. To the name of one Rajesh Koothrapali. With the Bane of his Sanity at the wheel, he stared as she pursed those generous lips and blew him a kiss before she drove off.

And once again, Arnav Singh Raizada had been left behind by the enigma that was _Billu Rani, _or _Madame Butterfly_ as he liked to think of her.

_Dammit!_


	11. Chapter 10: Iongantas

**iongantas**_** /ĩ**__**ə̃**__**Nd**__**ə**__**s/**_**:** Gaelic word for astonishment, surprise, wonder or, even curiosity (No, not the Mars robot, the word!). Used to explain unexplained turns of events.

_Psychic spies from China_

_Try to steal your mind's elation_

_Little girls from Sweden_

_Dream of silver screen quotations_

_And if you want these kind of dreams_

_It's Californication_

He had the sleeves of his chequered shirt rolled up, patiently going over the financial accounts of the vic over and over again, bobbing his head to Red Hot Chili Peppers, while the Accountant-like black rimmed glasses danced on the sharp arch of his nose, wobbling now and then. Aman was good at what he did, simply because of his sometimes seemingly endless supply of patience. He had been studying the autopsy report as well. In plain English - there was nothing there. Aman Mathur didn't believe in ghosts and unless one returned from the dead to take revenge on Soni for some nameless sins, there was something they were missing out on. If needed, he would go over the crime scene with a fine toothed comb over and over again until they found something - except, he trusted Payal enough to know she wouldn't miss out on anything. So that meant, waiting. He would wait until she found something and she would and he would go through the clues at hand until something popped up.

_It's the edge of the world_

_And all of western civilization_

_The sun may rise in the East_

_At least it settles in the final location_

_It's understood that Hollywood_

_Sells Californication_

He bobbed his head, while looking. Concentrating. Adding the numbers up in his head. There was something about the books that made him think that the accounts had been cooked. the numbers were just too conservative. Too pat. Aman smiled, reaching for a Kings beer. His brother had just come back from Goa and it had been his present to Aman - a case of beautiful smoky malted beer that is only brewed there. Aman smiled, taking a sip. There was a lot of memories attached to Goa; funny how a drink can bring it all back. For now though, he smiled - the past would stay where it belonged and Aman would continue looking at the books and try placing a respectable government official with Y-crystals because his gut told him that was all it was about - nothing else. Soni was neck deep in chemistry. It was Aman's job to find out the where and the how of the whiff in question.

_First born unicorn_

_Hard core soft porn_

_Dream of Californication_

_Dream of Californication_

Aman knew how fast trails could go cold and he knew how fast he would need to work to counteract that. There would be times when he didn't eat properly or meet and even talk to his own family for weeks at a time but that was just the part and parcel of the job in question. Aman knew the risks - he never did anything being uninformed. Now only if he knew how Soni was moving the _glass_; the street slang for Y-crystals, Aman knew he'd have half the case in his hand but that would be asking too much. Plus, he was now looking forward to the case, somewhat. Reaching out he took a swig of the smoky malted liquid and smiled - he was certainly looking forward to some time spent with the doll masquerading as the new assistant head of customs, certainly. Ms. Lavanya Kashyap.

_Destruction leads to a very rough road_

_But it also breeds creation_

_And earthquakes are to a girl's guitar_

_They're just another good vibration_

_And tidal waves couldn't save the world_

_From Californication_

Of course it could just be that Ms. Kashyap was knee deep in all this. Dirty to her pretty fingertips. Aman would then make certain that she got what was coming to her. Until then, where was the harm in a little cat-mouse game? He was smiling still, studying the books when the phone rang. He smiled some more when he put it down. Some rich teenager was caught with nearly a month's supply of _Glass. _ Stoned out of her mind. Aman didn't believe in prosecuting the young. She would no doubt get a slap on the wrist because of daddy's money and unlike other cops Aman had no problem with that. As long as they caught the supplier. Her supplier. Grinning, he straightened his glasses. No doubt he'd have to step out now. He couldn't help but wish that the delectable Ms. Kashyap would be around again. Just because. For now, he had a spoiled teen to scare. Aman stripped off his casual shirt, pulling on a well ironed blue one. He never believed in mixing his private life with his public one. While he stripped of his jeans and pulled on formal slacks, he thought - the clothes sometimes really did make the man. While his boss, ASR ran from formals as far as he could - no doubt scarred from his stifling upbringing, Aman wore his - embracing them - to forget his own. Straightening his time, he walked out. Work, he knew, would wait for no one.

_First born unicorn_

_Hard core soft porn_

_Dream of Californication_

"You look incredibly trashy! Go up and change your dress right now!" it had slipped out of his astonished mouth. NK hadn't meant for something like this to come out - at least not when his sister - half-sister, sister, what's the difference? - had her birthday coming up in a few days and her mother was out of town, living it up in Corsica. Their father - the source of their shared DNA too couldn't be bothered about the 17 year old starving with a full stomach. So, he had asked NK to move in for the time being, to keep a perfunctory eye on his sister. He had, not because of the incentive his father had promised him but because he was genuinely concerned - worried about her. He remembered himself at that age. NK wouldn't want any sister of his to get into shit like that if he could help it. He hadn't meant to say something so offensive either. His years with women and Khushi had taught him that talking to women requires a second and a third thought before opening your mouth and yet, one look at his sister-the polite stranger he barely knew in that trashy pink dress right out of a Euro-Trash club somewhere had him saying something like that. It was cowl necked, shiny, backless and a horrible pepto bismol pink dress that barely reached her mid thighs. The material looked cheap and he was horrified that his sister would wear something so trashy. She had teamed up her overtly made up face with diamonds with as much style as a glass would have. Where was the class? NK had stared - unable to believe that her mother would let her out like that.

"It's a Vivienne Westwood Red Label Foil dress!" she had half screeched, nose in the air. Surprised, almost as much as he was by her non-interfering, stranger of a half-brother piping in about anything in her life. Her overly glossy pink lips opening and closing like a hungry fish's.

The words that came out of her mouth shocked NK dumb for almost a minute. "Nose the _fuck_ out of my business, will you? Just because Dad told you to _keep an eye on me_, doesn't mean I'm going to take your shit."

How the hell had his little sister learnt to talk like that? The girl he'd always brought home pretty Barbies for, before they'd lost touch? "Now, wait just a minute..." he almost stammered, when she turned on her heel and stormed out of the Living Hall and into the foyer.

NK started seeing red. Where did she get off talking to him like that? Hell, he was almost 12 years older in age and decades older in experience where the little brat was concerned. "Alright, that's it." He'd caught her painfully thin arm (_Had the child even heard the word 'food'? How did her mother allow her to live like this?_) in his hand and escorted her squirming and screeching back into the house.

"I _forbid_ you to step out of this house looking like," he looked her over once again and barely refrained from saying exactly what she looked like, lest he be impolite, "_this._ Go upstairs, change into something that's respectable- _not trashy_- and I'll drive you to your friend's house. Am I clear?"

"You know all about _trash_ don't you, _Bhai?_" NK was taken aback at the scorn in her narrowed gaze. "Of course you do! What with that slut hanging around you all the bloody time! So, tell me _Bhai _its okay that you play with _trash _but when it comes to me, you think of your outdated patriarchal values first? Fuck that!"

NK was the affable sort. Usually. He hardly lost his temper and with it the vein of cold running through him - those were parts of him he hardly ever let out, until today. "Not. Another. Word." He could have sworn he felt steam coming out of his ears as the unknown, hoarse voice shot out of his throat like pressurized steam. "Go to your room, you're not allowed to go outside tonight. In fact, I'm grounding you, till your Mother gets back."

Any other person would have seen his pale face, clenched fists and red ears- and heard that cold biting voice- and obeyed him _at once._ Not Anika Raina, though. No. She stuck her tiny, pointed nose in the air and proceeded to hike his anger up to previously unseen heights. "Fuck you!" she hissed. "Like I would ever listen to you! We are nothing but strangers with half of the same DNA. So fucking what? You're the golden child and I'm the afterthought. I owe you nothing." And with that, the little idiot had stormed out of the house, past him and into the car. What was she even doing, driving a _Car?_ She was not even 18 yet! Then, ironically mirroring his actions at the same age, she had driven off in a cloud of dust. The only difference? He had never left behind another person worried sick about him. She, he was surprised to notice at that time, mattered. Not like a pet belonging to a member of the family, as he had grown into a habit of thinking - she _mattered. _

And here he was now. Called down to the fucking Police Station, because his barely 17 year old half-sister had been caught in possession of _drugs. _He groaned again, letting his head fall back into his hands, as Khushi lightly patted his shoulder, while she navigated the car one handed. Drugs, of all the crimes to get involved in, the little idiot had gotten _high._ Goddamnit, would his Father never Learn?!

Arnav stood outside the hospital room while the spoiled little meth-head threw a tantrum inside at having been placed in police custody. Hard to believe that she was NK's half sister. That they share _any_ sort of DNA at all. Where NK was affable, this one was spoiled. NK was a thrill seeker, while Anika was lost in her own bubble and where NK loathed drugs (no doubt for his own reasons) and his stance on them was notoriously rigid, yet Anika was packing more Glass than any teenagers or dealers he had encountered lately. This placed the loathsome teenager in his legal clutches - through her, he had a handle on NK Raina and through him - _Billoo Rani_. Raina would be a means to an end. Arnav had used enough of those to know that it wouldn't be the first time his conscience would twitch guiltily but needs must. Instincts were barely wrong and his said, she'd know. To paraphrase Heroes, find the Butterfly, find the drug lord.


End file.
